Henry's Legacy
by jfb
Summary: Regency P&P.  Reclusive Mr. Bennet lives two lives, one at Longbourn and one in top of London society.  Real people and real history mix with our favorite characters to give us this tale.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

**Longbourn, September 1795**

Henry Bennet saw bright eyes and chestnut curls just under the cabinet in the corner of his laboratory. He almost laughed. _So my little terror escaped everyone. Once again. I will pretend not to notice. _In a few more minutes, he began laying out small trays for his new experiment. He no longer needed to pretend that he did not see Elizabeth. He was so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten all about her. He counted aloud in Greek as he laid out the trays. Once they were all set, he counted again, this time in Latin. He left to retrieve a reagent from his basement stores.

Henry returned to find Elizabeth up on a stool, pointing her pudgy little finger as she counted the trays. "Hello my little Lizzy. Are you counting in Greek?"

"Is that what it is? I like it. I like the other one too." Again pointing with her finger, she began, "Unus, duo, tres, quater"

"Quattuor" said Henry gently.

"Quattuor" she repeated. "Unus, duo, tres, quattuor!" she said proudly pointing to the fourth tray.

Henry swept her off the stool, into the air and then settled the giggling child on his hip. "And my dear little terror, that one is called Latin. How did you learn to count in Greek and Latin?"

Elizabeth put her thumb in her mouth. It was her automatic reaction to being nervous. She may have been fully conversational since age 18 months and she may have been used to her father treating her as a little adult, but in her life with mother, she was always in some kind of trouble. She now looked every bit a worried three year old. She looked up at her father with imploring eyes. "Am I in deep problems?"

"Never with me, little terror. Although I am quite sure that Fanny will screech about this or that. I have told you to pay her no mind, respectfully of course. Now, where did you learn?"

"I was hiding." She looked down at the floor.

Henry put a finger under her chin and gently raised her head. "Just now?"

Elizabeth nodded seriously.

Henry stared at his little daughter. _This one is very bright. Let us see what she can do._

"Then, my dear, shall we have tea?" Henry pulled the bell cord. The footman appeared almost instantly. "Miss Elizabeth and I will have tea in my garden. And please find Riddle. Tell him Miss Elizabeth requires a tutor."

The footman did not let his shock show on his face as he hurried away to order tea and then find Mr. Riddle. _Heavens. A tutor for a three year old girl? The master is mad. Can't stand the sight of a woman. Talking to himself in all those tongues. No letting no one clean his laboratories. Wearin them clothes from who knows where. At least he pays well and on time. He ain't cruel. Maybe ain't so bad. Wait til old Riddle hears this._

**Chapter 1**

**Hertfordshire**

**October 7, 1811 **

Dread was her dominant emotion as the carriage rumbled through Meryton. Another three months with her mother and her sisters. Papa never came anymore. Sighing, Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She would have plenty of work to distract her and, no matter what, it would be good to see Jane and Charlotte again.

Fanny Bennet watched with a scowl as the carriage arrived. That girl was back. She saw the footman hand Elizabeth down and saw the carriage set in motion again, heading off to Henry's house behind Longbourn . _"Henry's house!" _Bad enough HE had a separate house. Miss High and Mighty had her own rooms there. Her own rooms, maid, carriage, servants. That was too much to be borne.

As Elizabeth stood in the carriageway, looking up at Longbourn, Fanny eyed her second daughter. She had matured. She looked elegant, almost pretty. Still, she was nothing to Jane or Lydia. Fanny's eyes slowly perused the girl, from the top of her bonnet to the tips of her traveling boots. _"Expensive. What kind of allowance does Henry give her? That money is wasted. My other girls would never wear something so unadorned. And those colors. They look almost like half mourning clothes. She probably chose them herself. No sense or taste. And where is it she goes all these months? Who are these 'distant relations'? _

Sighing, Fanny squared her shoulders. She had determined to be civil, even friendly, to the girl this time. Fanny was tired of not knowing where Henry was. Tired of worrying about the hedgerows. She was sure there was some money somewhere here. Perhaps the relations were rich. If so, maybe Elizabeth could throw her sisters into the paths of rich men, even if she never seemed to have a suitor herself. _"That girl knows a good deal more than I." _Fanny was determined. She would find out the truth.

Longbourn's front door flew open. Elizabeth's face broke into a broad smile as Jane hurried forward to embrace her.

"Oh, Lizzy. I am so happy to see you."

Anything more she might have said was cut off as the other girls came tumbling out to hug her. To Elizabeth's surprise, her mother appeared and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Welcome home, my dear girl."

"Lizzy, your pelisse is very fine."

"But the colors! You would think someone died."

"What presents have you brought?"

"Did you bring the new Mrs. Radcliffe?"

"Have you any beaus?"

"You will never guess our news. Netherfield Park is let at last."

"And it is taken by a man of large fortune."

"He is very handsome and wears a blue coat."

"He promised to come to the assembly next week."

"And to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen."

Laughter bubbled up from Elizabeth. "Too many ladies."

"Come." said Jane, linking her arm with Elizabeth's. "Come inside. You must be tired."

The next days passed in a not altogether unpleasant frenzy. Elizabeth continued to be surprised by how civil Fanny was. If not for the cool, assessing looks that were cast her way, when Fanny thought herself unseen, Elizabeth might have begun to soften toward the woman who had given birth to her.

Mrs. Bennet had indeed been watching Elizabeth, but her intentions toward that girl would have to wait for now. The all important assembly would soon be here and the girls would meet Mr. Bingley. She was sure he would fall in love with Jane or Lydia.

Lizzy's presents of fabric and lace had caused an immediate trip to the dressmakers. New gowns for her sisters were to be made in time for the assembly. Elizabeth had been shocked to learn that this also included a new gown for Lydia. The girl was only a couple of months past fifteen. Last year, she had been silly, ignorant, idle and vain. Now, alarmingly, she seemed devoted to flirting and displaying her womanly wiles. She certainly had them. Lydia had developed an even more curvaceous figure than Jane's. Her bodices were cut much too low. A recipe for disaster with this spoiled, willful child. She should be in the schoolroom. What was her mother thinking? Elizabeth thought fleetingly of writing to her father, but knew it would do no good.

It was fortunate for Elizabeth's mind that she had had so much to do. She had begun with a early morning ride over the estate's high grounds. Using four different vantage points, she had been able to put together a general impression of the condition of the estate.

Elizabeth sighed as her eyes ran, again, over the broad expanse of fields. She could see a good portion of the estate's lands from this hillside. The harvest looked complete, but little soil had been turned for the winter. She also did not like the number of fields that had clearly lain fallow. Little more than half had been planted. She was more than sure that this was not due to clever implementation of the new crop rotation methods.

Anger began to bubble inside her. So much empty land would make for a harsh winter for Longbourn's tenants. Elizabeth had been trying to care for the tenants since she was twelve years old. She remembered...

_Little five year old Bobby Miller had come racing across a field to greet her. His running had a odd, lopsided quality to it. He had gleefully shown her his bent lower leg and shared his story of falling off the ladder inside the mill. Lizzy held hands with him and walked him home. Mrs. Miller had told her, sadly, that Bobby's broken leg had come just before last year's harvest. There had been no funds left to pay the apothecary. Her husband, in his terror of causing more pain to his son, had not properly set the leg. Even at twelve, Lizzy knew the future of a maimed tenant. Thank goodness he was the miller's son. It might be hard, but he could still learn his trade and earn a living. His place would also make up for his deformity and in spite of it, he could look forward to a wife._

Looking back, Elizabeth knew it was a turning point. She had not rested until she was sure that all the tenants would have care when they needed it. She had first, innocently, gone to her mother. Lizzy had grown up on estates. She knew the mistress had the direct responsibility to watch out for the tenants' welfare. While she already had little respect for Fanny, it did not occur to her that Fanny knew nothing of being mistress to an estate.

_She knocked gently on the door of her mother's rooms. Mrs. Hill let her in. Her mother was reclining on the chaise, being fanned by Molly and mumbling about her nerves._

_"Mama, may I speak to you?"_

_"Yes. Yes. Come here child, where I can see you."_

_"Good Heavens! Look at you. You are covered in dirt again. Will you never behave like a lady? Your father should leave you here, where you can learn some manners. Who will ever marry a little hoyden like you? If only you were pretty like Jane, you might have a chance. Now, where have you been this time? "_

_Swallowing her hurt, Lizzy told her mother that she had seen the Millers. Poor little Bobby's leg was crooked because they could not afford the apothecary._

_"Yes, yes. I remember. The mother came here. What was I to do with it? That clumsy little thing fell off a ladder. What did she want? Did she want me to pay? She should have been more careful with her money. She probably drinks. All those people do. And do you know, I almost believe she thought I would go with her to see him. Can you imagine? Me going to the house of tenant? It took days to calm my nerves. Hill had to call for Mr. Nolan several times. Thank heavens for his calming draughts. Do not tell me you have been to their house? Child! You will be the death of me. Why you could catch any disease! No lady would associate with the likes of those people. Hill! Hill! Bring my salts. I feel faint. "_

_A stunned Elizabeth had backed out of the room as her mother was lost in another fit of nerves. Her youthful mind tried to grapple with all she had just learned. Fanny had sent for the apothecary. Several times. But for herself. For her imagined nerves. All the while, a little four year old boy was in agony and his little bones were healing. Healing into a crooked leg._

_Hill had shrugged his shoulders. Petrie had ignored her letter. Mr. Nolan had sympathized with the ideal, but had told her that if he gave care for free to one person, soon all would not pay. He tried to do what he could, but his family had to eat._

_She had written to Cousin Will and Aunt Amelia. Will had consulted his steward. Aunt Amelia had written from her own experience. To Lizzy's comfort, both her dear relations said pretty much the same thing. Longbourn should pay the apothecary directly, to ensure he came when needed, but the tenants must have ultimate responsibility for the bills. This not only let the proud tenants keep their self respect, but it also guaranteed they would not take advantage of the estate. The clever part in all this was to make the repayment of the apothecary's bills something that the tenants could afford. Will's steward had suggested a little regular work on the home farm until the debt was paid off. Aunt Amelia suggested for a miller, it could be some quantity of grain. For other tenants, perhaps dried apples, jams or fresh vegetables for Longbourn's kitchens. Something doable and affordable over time. If the tenant had many hardships, she made it a practice to deliver enough extras in her baskets to more than make up for anything provided as payment._

_Armed with a plan, Lizzy had made Hill, Petrie and Nolan fall in line. Over the years, the tenants had grown comfortable with sending for Nolan when they needed him._

Her mind coming back to the present, she shuddered. It had come to her, over time, that a big part of the problem here was that no one cared about Longbourn. To her father, it was merely where he stored her mother and her sisters. To Petrie, it was only a nuisance. It was to go to Collins after Henry died, so no long term investment was wise. He only wanted to keep it functioning enough to pay most of Fanny's bills. Hill was a kind man, but an indifferent caretaker.

No one held the welfare of Longbourn as a priority. Certainly, no one had had the best interests of tenants at heart. Well, Elizabeth did.

This small harvest would cause severe problems. First she would have to review the books with Hill. Then visit the tenants. Then make a plan.

Still, she smiled to herself, none of this meant that she could not enjoy a few moments of this crisp, autumn morning. She pulled off her bonnet and pulled loose her hair. She tied her bonnet and hair pins inside her scarf and tied the whole bundle to her saddle. Then, she shook her hair out and had a brief word with her horse. Leaning close to his neck, she gave him a nudge. Off they took. Flying over the countryside, laughing, the wind blowing her hair, Lizzy felt alive.

From afar, Fitzwilliam Darcy had been watching the elegant creature for some time. She had sat, regal and erect, astride a magnificent steed, surveying the land as if she owned it. He had been prepared to turn away when he saw her untying her bonnet. Spellbound, he watched the rich hair flow free and saw her race off across the land. Magnificent.

Elizabeth smiled at the anticipated soft knock on her door. She and Jane had so little private time that they decided Jane would spend the night in Elizabeth's rooms.

After the girls were ready for bed and after tomorrow's assembly had been thoroughly discussed, Jane took Lizzy's hand and looked seriously at her.

"Dearest Lizzy, are your ready now to talk? What happened with Cousin Will that you could not tell me in your letters?"

"Oh, Jane. It was awful and it was so soon after Uncle William's funeral. Jane, Will proposed."

Jane's face widened in surprise. "He is in love with you! Are you to be married then?"

"No. No. I had to refuse him. I love him so very dearly, but as my brother. I could never be wife to him."

"Poor Will. How he must have felt it."

"Oh, yes. He appeared devastated. I wanted to hug him to me and tell him everything would be alright. It is what I have done since we were children. Given what he had just asked, I certainly could not embrace him. My dearest heart, my best friend was so miserable. It was all my fault and I could not comfort him."

Jane reached out and gave Lizzy's hand a calming squeeze. "Poor Lizzy. Is this why you went to Bedfordshire?"

"Indeed. At first, I tried to lighten the situation by teasing him. He responded in kind, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. Nothing I did would help. I only brought more pain. I wrote to Aunt Amelia to see if I could join her. When she wrote back, I told him that she had summoned me." Elizabeth paused and looked down at her hands. "I am sure he knew I was lying."

Jane pulled Elizabeth into an embrace.

"Oh, Jane. What have I done? His heart is broken. He is mourning a father he feared more than loved. Responsibility for the whole Dukedom is now on his shoulders, all those dependents. And I, I left him alone. I abandoned him."

"Shhh. Lizzy, you did the only thing you could. You did not make him in love with you. You could not stay when it gave him more pain. Wait, you will see. He will realize he confused brotherly love with romantic love. Then you will be able to comfort and love him. Truly, dear. All will be well."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

**Meryton, October 15, 1811**

He had not recognized her as the horsewoman he had seen from afar. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she laughed with her friend. He saw the glances they stole at him. _"She did hear me. Blast Charles. Why could he not leave me alone?" _Now Darcy was not only in a crowd of strangers, the object of vulgar whispers everywhere, but he was guilty of the worst of crimes. He had not been a gentleman. _"Well, at least she seems to find it humorous. She does not look worse for the experience. And what did I say that was untrue?"_

A fortnight later, he knew everything he had said was untrue. She was not only tolerable, she was utterly bewitching. Wit, charm, elegance, manners. And her eyes - sparkling, intelligent, good-humored, kind. And her person - slim, graceful, strong. With chestnut curls, creamy shoulders, and those pert breasts. _"Stop! Stop!"_

**Netherfield, November 13, 1811**

"Did you see her riding in, Louisa? I swear she looked almost wild! Wearing what? Almost trousers! Riding astride! And her hair was loose! I am sure you saw it all, sister! That is no lady!"

"Quite so, my dear. Such a lack of decorum. We must be right, you know." Louisa flicked her eyes briefly toward Darcy.

Caroline understood. She had seen Darcy's spellbound admiration for the tousled chit. Why, he could not even speak! It was past time to cast some strong doubts about Miss Eliza Bennet.

"I am afraid it must be so. There is no way such a country girl, from such an estate, could afford that elegant clothing. And do not forget, no one knows where she disappears to for nine months of the year. Not even her mother. What could be such a secret? Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, but this sister! There can be no other conclusion. Miss Eliza Bennet is the well-kept toy of some rich man."

Darcy started. While Charles objected vigorously and chastised his sisters for speaking such nonsense, Darcy was lost in thought. _"Is it true? Is she someone's pampered mistress? Allowed to spend part of the year with her family?" _It would explain much. She appeared to be in every way more wealthy and refined than her sisters. Jane was an English rose with soft country manners. But, Elizabeth, she was extraordinary. She could grace any town table. Was she the pride and joy of some wealthy peer? Or had she been? Those half-mourning clothes. Had she lost her protector? Would she be open for a new one? Darcy felt his nether regions expand. _"No. No. She is so young. She seems such an innocent. It cannot be true."_

**Netherfield, November 26, 1811 **

Jane and Bingley had their heads almost together through most of supper. While they had been dancing, Bingley had whispered "Beautiful Jane, I love you." In spite of her reticent nature, Jane's answer sprung forth. It seemed to have a will of its own. "I love you, too." After the next turn, she gently added, "But we must talk."

Talk they did. Whispering gently, Jane told her story. Charles was leaning close, at first overwhelmed with her nearness, then overwhelmed with sadness. _"Cavendish. Grey. Dukes! They will never accept the son of a tradesman. Never. But Will is my old friend. Darcy's neighbor and friend." _Bingley's eyes searched the supper room until they found Darcy. There he was. Haughty, aloof, disdainful of this company. Disgust on his face. _"That is how they will look at me. Oh, Jane. We are doomed."_

**Netherfield, November 27, 1811**

"Charles. Charles!" Caroline's sharp voice cut the thick air of the breakfast room. Charles looked up at her, but remained in a daze.

"We must depart for London. Immediately! I will no longer tolerate this society. Especially those crude, drunken Bennets! The youngest are completely wild. If I have to hear the mother again, I will not remain civil! And that Eliza! Jane may be sweet, but that family cannot be tolerated!"

To everyone's surprise, Bingley began to chuckle. Soon he was laughing hysterically. Suddenly he stopped and wiped the tears from his eyes. His shoulders slumped. He looked utterly and completely defeated.

"Charles, have you lost your senses? We must depart for London. Now!"

Bingley raised his head and regarded his sister. He eyed her carefully, critically. Finally he spoke. "Yes, Caroline. The difference between our family and the Bennets is great." Turning his cool gaze on Darcy, he continued, "Any objections, Darcy?"

"None whatsoever. I shall direct my men to pack immediately." Darcy stood and walked to the window. It was the correct thing to do. A knife pierced his heart.

**Longbourn, November 27, 1811**

"LIZZY! Headstrong girl. Where have you been?"

Fanny Bennet had done her best. She had been more than kind to that girl. She had tried to charm information from her. Useless. That girl evaded. She pretended not to hear, she changed the subject, and she even left the room. What a waste of time and effort. And it had taken so very much effort not to continually put that girl in her place!

Then, when Fanny was completely out of patience, Divine Providence had taken a hand. Mr. Collins had arrived. The heir. Inexplicably, of all her daughters, he had taken a fancy to Elizabeth.

Well, so much the better. Collins was a ridiculous, smelly creature. Surely not good enough for her other daughters. But, more than good enough for that girl. Fanny was saved. No more hedgerows. Not to mention the pleasure of imagining that girl bending to the will of the odious Collins.

"Where have you been? Mr. Collins has been waiting for you all morning. I insist that you go now and hear him. And no clever remarks! He shall save us from the hedgerows!"

Elizabeth froze in place. Collins. Her mother wanted her to marry Collins. What a joke! If her head did not hurt so badly, she would laugh. Even after the late night, she had not been able to sleep. Mr. Darcy had confused her. Her mother and sisters had mortified her.

"Lizzy!" Fanny's screech brought her back to the present. She raised her head and looked Fanny Bennet straight in the eyes. Fanny Bennet had never loved her. Never had a kind word for her. Never tended her bruises and scrapes. Never tucked her in at night. Never been her mother.

"Madam." she said slowly, clearly and calmly. "Let me be perfectly clear. I will never marry Collins and Father will not make me." On that, she turned on her heel and walked toward her father's house. She left Fanny Bennet screeching behind her.

Several hours later, she found Jane weeping quietly in Henry's private garden. Miss Bingley had sent a note. The whole party had left Netherfield, without any intention of coming back. She had at least hoped that Charles would try to approach her father or at maybe Cousin Will. Still, how could she blame him? She was sure herself that the family would not let her marry Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth found little she could say in consolation. She was not sure about anything.

That evening, as they sat in Father's drawing room, Elizabeth suddenly knew she wanted nothing more than to leave this place. She had done what she could to ensure a comfortable winter for the tenants, as well as a decent spring planting. In London, she would badger Petrie about a new steward.

"Jane, it is time we left Longbourn. We can go to Aunt Amelia and then to London. Father will not mind. Aunt will be delighted. It will give her more time to prepare us for our presentations. We will send an express ahead of us tomorrow. When you are ready, we can ask cousin Wills about Mr. Bingley. We Cavendishes are not known to live life according to the ton. Perhaps it is not as hopeless as it seems. In the meantime, we will have some peace. We need a quiet, safe place. We need to be home. Longbourn is no longer that, even for you."

Jane nodded silently, rose and retired to her room. Elizabeth order the carriage to be readied and the trucks to be packed.


	3. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: **CHAPTER 3 IS HERE. **I messed up posting & deleted it, so I combined in with Chapter 4.

1. A big THANK YOU to the great people who read for me. **Jill N, FeliciaHM, and Bfly. **I did a lot of writing since they saw this. All mistakes are completely mine.

2. Please remember this is** RATED MATURE**. Overt content has been removed. Non-edited version available at A Happy Assembly.

3. I cannot really apologize for my belief that powerful men throughout time have had access to, and often availed themselves of, women for pleasure. This did not necessarily make them bad men. I know I will be, using my E's words, in deep problems with some of you for this.

Having said that, I will be hiding behind my couch. Please don't throw anything too sharp or too heavy at me. I do not have quick reflexes and I may not be able to duck in time.

**Chapter 3**

**Wrest Park, December 22, 1811**

Lady Amabel Hume-Campbell looked over at the girl she considered her daughter. She was so much a Grey. Even when Elizabeth was away, Lady Amabel found her company in the portraits on the walls. The first time Amabel had seen her, Elizabeth was four years old. Amabel had been forty five. Oddly enough, despite this age difference, their grandmothers had been sisters. Not just sisters, they were almost identical in looks. And that smiling, bright-eyed, four year old bundle that was Elizabeth had been the spitting image of them. For Amabel, it had been love at first sight.

How she remembered that day! It was August of 1796. Henry had arrived, without warning, and with two little girls in tow. With no maids and no nurse! Daughters! Henry was distraught, but Amabel learned enough to realize there was a wife. There had been one for some time now. In nearby Hertfordshire! And Henry wanted to stay here for a while, with these girls. That was all she was able to get for the moment.

It had taken two days to have the nursery cleaned, aired and partially staffed. In the meantime, she had tucked the two little ones into a guest room, with a cot for a servant in the adjoining dressing room. That first night, before she had retired, she went to check on them. The little angel Jane was sleeping peacefully. Elizabeth was curled up in the window seat. Sobbing.

_"Elizabeth?"_

_The little girl looked up, startled and afraid. Amabel went quickly to sit beside her._

_"It is alright, little one. I am your Aunt Amabel. May I help you? Are you afraid?" _

_"Auntie?" came the barely audible response._

_"Yes, my dear. Tell me what is wrong." She reached out gingerly to hold the little girl's hand. _

_Elizabeth did not pull away._

_Wiping tears from her eyes, she whispered "My Amelia. I left her."_

_Amelia? Was that another sister, a nurse, a friend?_

_"Amelia?"_

_"My dolly. I left her. I left her at home. Who will hold her?" Elizabeth became wracked with sobs again._

_Amabel understood. Elizabeth's source of comfort was back in Hertfordshire. "Elizabeth, we will try to get her for you. In the meantime, I am a little like Amelia."_

_"You are?" questioned the bright eyes._

_"Oh, yes. Am for Amabel. Am for Amelia. You know, no one holds me, either. Maybe you can help me. Until we can get your dolly, can I be your Amelia?" _

_The little girl looked up into Amabel's warm, welcoming eyes. Amabel held her arms open. After hesitating a little, Elizabeth crawled in. Amabel held her and gently rocked her as she cried herself to sleep._

Aunt Amelia had been born.

Lady Amabel had been looking forward, literally for years, to Elizabeth's first season. That dream was once again, for now, in tatters. Elizabeth had always insisted on being presented together with Jane. Jane had always delayed.

Amabel had felt finally triumphant when they showed up in Bedfordshire at the end of November. But they had both been disturbed, and then that sweet Jane had fled back to Hertfordshire. Even Henry's arrival had only, at first, seemed to further disturb Elizabeth.

Thankfully, her little Lizzy was not formed for ill humor and soon her delightful spirit had brought a glow to them all.

Still, Amabel worried. _"Well,"_ she sighed internally, _"She will speak of what bothers her when she is ready to do so. And if I have to wait another season to bring her out, so be it. She will be twenty one by then, and Jane or no Jane, we will proceed." _Her eyes brightened. Actually waiting another season was a grand idea. The new Duke will be out of mourning by then. A joint presentation from Devonshire and Kent Houses will be spectacular.

Elizabeth closed her book, rose, kissed her aunt on the cheek and bid her goodnight. It was early, but Elizabeth felt like brooding in private. Aunt Amelia's anxious glances had not escaped her notice. The letters that had come today weighed on her mind.

In her dressing gown, servants dismissed, Elizabeth curled comfortably by the fire, a small glass of brandy in hand. Elizabeth laughed. She knew that both she and Wills would have been shot at dawn if the family had ever known that he had given her this habit! She still did not know how men drank such large glasses of this. She had tried it once and had spent the next day in bed. No, for her, it would always be only a few, small sips. But she did relish the fire, the flavor and the ritual. It was a great comfort at the end of the day. Now, to the matters at hand.

Jane. Elizabeth let out a long breath. To her shame, Elizabeth had actually been relieved at Jane's departure. It meant she could avoid the season. Again. She had not been looking forward to it. Maybe another reprieve would allow her to just slide in. No fanfare. No presentation. Elizabeth already had the theater, history, art, the Royal Society. On the other hand, being out would allow her to attend more dinners and have more conversation. Some real travel, maybe. It would certainly allow more balls. She would take great pleasure in that. But she was not looking for a husband and she did not relish being dragged from one event to another. The idea of just declaring herself 'out' had great appeal. She could dance and dine when she wished and have none of the other attendant fuss. She groaned as thoughts of Aunt Amelia and Will's sisters came forward. They would not stand for it. Well, maybe with enough reprieves, she could wear them all down.

Jane did not seem to want any of it either. Dear, sweet Jane. In the middle of her own heartbreak, she thought only of others. As soon as they arrived, she had been wild to go back. She had only stayed two days, and that was to soothe Aunt Amelia. Jane had known that her mother would be prostrate with grief at the loss of both Mr. Collins and Mr. Bingley. She was, of course, right that Longbourn would be in a state of complete upheaval. The servants must have been beside themselves. Jane might not help much with the estate or the tenants, but she certainly brought calm and order to the house. No. Jane was right. Jane was needed at Longbourn.

Elizabeth had been wrong. Longbourn might not be her home, but it was Jane's.

And her letter today. Her mother was insisting that Jane go, for a few weeks, to London with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. Jane thought she would use the occasion to call on Miss Bingley.

If Elizabeth was correctly reading between the lines here, Fanny was trying to throw Jane back into Bingley's path. And, Jane? Well she was probably trying to gently let Mr. Bingley know that she really cared for him. Jane also thought Miss Bingley to truly be her friend. Elizabeth hoped Miss Bingley would not be too cruel.

Then, Charlotte's letter. The marriage date had been set. Elizabeth finally acknowledged that Jane may have the right of it here. It was a prudent match. It was also clear that Elizabeth had not known Charlotte as well as she thought. She knew now that something was severed there, but she would not allow it to cause a permanent rift. Perhaps they could never be what they once were to each other, but if Elizabeth held her tongue, they could remain friends. Yes. Elizabeth would make excuses and not return for the wedding, but she would visit Charlotte at Hunsford this spring.

Thinking of Charlotte reminded her that the new Mrs. Collins would someday be mistress of Longbourn. A little thought edged into the corner of her mind, _"Why is that anyway?" _She swatted that thought away, before it could really reach her consciousness, and her mind drifted to her sisters. She pushed that thought away, too. She had done all she could for now and she would dwell on it later. On the way to London. Then, she would think about how to move forward. For now, everything at Wrest Park was peaceful and calm. She just wanted to leave the Bennets in Hertfordshire for now.

She really frowned at herself. _"What a wretched, selfish thought!" _She knew she did that too often, leave the Bennets in Hertfordshire. She should not have let her father, so many times, avoid talking about it. But, she did not often brood. Life had been full. She was proud of the education that she had managed to attain. And now, sort of like a young man just out of university, she was looking forward to taking on some of the real world. _"Too bad I do not get a Grand Tour first." _

_"Enough!" _It was time to be in the present. Celebrating Christmas and then her birthday! These days had always been spent at Longbourn. She could not remember a time when Christmas was pleasant. And her birthday. There was never any mention of it, much less a celebration. Well, Jane did give her a small gift, but only when no one else could see.

She was so looking forward to her birthday this year. Maybe she would even have a cake!

**Chapter 4**

**Clarges Street, London, December 23, 1811**

William Cavendish, 6th Duke of Devonshire since his father's death last July, came to suddenly. His eyes roamed over the fire-lit, garish room. "Mimi's," he groaned. He reached for his watch. Three in the morning. Disgustedly, he threw back the covers and staggered over to the basin to wash. In a few minutes, he was carelessly dressed. He threw a gold coin on the table and left the room, never once glancing at the woman still sleeping in the bed. She had been buxom and blond. Not the dark haired, bright-eyed Jeanette he had come for. She had already been taken. Even in this lowly attempt, he had been thwarted. His anguish erased any relief. _"Was there no cure for this?"_

He stumbled down the stairs and toward the front door. Not watching where he was going, he slammed into something solid. Looking up, it took him a moment to see.

"Darcy! Good Lord. Forgive me." He reached out to clasp hands warmly with his old friend.

"Your Grace. It has been many months." Darcy eyed the younger man with concern as the servants helped the two men with their coats. He looked worn, drawn.

A wave of guilt spread over Darcy. Why, William was no older than Darcy had been when his father died. Probably younger. And the responsibilities that Darcy had inherited were nothing, absolutely nothing, to what had been laid on Devonshire's shoulders.

He, probably more than anyone, could have offered real support. Darcy cringed. He had not even called on him, not once since the Duke's funeral. Yes, he had been overwhelmed by what happened at Ramsgate, but that was no excuse.

Well, he would see what he could do now. Maybe it would help Bingley, too.

"Come to Darcy House tonight if you can. Dinner, after dinner, anything. Bingley is there. He has been holed up in one of my rooms for weeks. Unrequited love. If you are coming, maybe he will venture downstairs."

At the mention of Bingley, Devonshire's eyes brightened for a moment and he nodded.

The Duke's carriage was pulling up and both men stepped out into the cold, night air.

Wanting to further lighten the mood, Darcy nudged Devonshire and whispered, "And are not we both a little grim? Don't forget where we are leaving."

Devonshire gave a humorless smile. "Humph." Looking back at Mimi's facade, he added quietly, "The one I really wanted was taken, not that I think it would have helped." With that, he disappeared into his carriage. Darcy watched it trundle off into the night.

"No. It did not help." muttered Darcy under his breath.

Bingley had indeed roused on seeing Devonshire. Initial happy greetings with his old Cambridge friend had given way to forced cheer and odd expressions. Then, Bingley fell into morose silence after the subject of his estate was raised. Darcy's pleading looks led Devonshire to push a little, over after dinner brandies.

Settling himself into a soft leather chair in the study, Devonshire inquired, "So Bingley. Let us have it now. What was so displeasing about your estate?"

"Netherfield was wonderful. The hunting was wonderful. The neighbors were wonderful. It is I who cannot impress."

"Ah, love. Spurned you, did she? Foolish woman."

"No, no. Not foolish. Wonderful woman."

Darcy rolled his eyes.

Devonshire continued, "Then why the long face?"

Bingley gave Devonshire a quick look of what, anger?

"My love is not enough."

"Ah, I know that pain."

Both Darcy and Bingley looked at Devonshire, eyebrows raised in question.

Will was surprised himself. But, yes, he needed to talk of it, at least a little. Sighing, he continued, "My cousin, a few times removed. You remember my Uncle Henry?" The two men nodded. Of course they knew of Henry Cavendish.

"One of his daughters." Cavendish paused. "I should say that she does love me. Like a brother, like a cousin. Laughs at me when I talk about something else."

"Daughters?" asked Darcy. "Isn't he older? Unmarried?"

"Older, yes. Unmarried, no. He has been quietly married more than these past twenty years. Keeps his brood away from society. Although, he does let us have Lizzy most of the time. And sometimes Jane."

Darcy froze. Bingley closed his eyes in pain.

Before either man recovered, Devonshire stood. "Blast it all. I am not fit for company. Thank you for dinner." With that, he was gone.

Neither Darcy nor Bingley spoke for a long time. Finally Darcy said, "Bingley, Lizzy and Jane are common names. He was speaking of Lizzy Cavendish and Jane Cavendish. Not Bennet. Such a family could not be related. Mrs. Bennet would have crowed it to the skies. And, she would not have been desperate to marry off all her girls. Henry Cavendish is a very wealthy man. The Bennet estate is entailed to that creature Collins, for heaven's sake!"

"And, please. Stop sulking. I stand by what I said. I could not see any symptoms of peculiar regard. She seems a good sort of girl, but she will marry you for her mother, regardless of love."

Charles, his expression assessing, looked a long time at Darcy. Abruptly, he rose. "Well, good night Darcy. I, too, am not fit for company."

Darcy was left alone, staring into the fire.


	4. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Road to London, January 3, 1812**

Elizabeth reached over and tucked the carriage rug more securely around her sleeping father. It was a cold day and he did not look well.

Leaning back in her own seat, she relaxed. She was very glad to be heading back to London. It would certainly be good for Papa. The comforts of his laboratories would ease his body as well as his mind.

She winced to remember how she had contributed to his discomfort. Still, she could not regret bringing it up. Someone had to do something about Kitty and Lydia. Especially Lydia. And then there were the hedgerows.

Unfortunately, the conversation, if you could call it that, had only left Elizabeth more agitated and confused. She had started with her concerns about the younger girls.

"Papa, did you know that Lydia is already out? She is only just fifteen. Even worse, she has an unguarded and imprudent manner. I am afraid she is openly flirtatious, and her clothes." looking down with a blush, Lizzy continued. "Her necklines are scandalously low."

Father had laughed! "So, Fanny lives and breathes all over again."

"Father!"

Henry waved her away, but Lizzy did not relent.

"Father, Kitty follows where ever Lydia leads. You must somehow check them or this will end in ruin and disgrace."

To Elizabeth's dismay, she saw her father turn into the frightened rabbit that she had so often seen when they were in company. He was a painfully shy man. Even in Royal Society company, he would often flee. And women. He was terrified to be around women unless they were close family. Even then, it was chancy. But he had always been completely at ease when he and Elizabeth were alone. Until right now.

He fidgeted, looked at the door, the walls, the floor. Anywhere except Elizabeth. Then, he made a sudden, high pitched shriek and headed for the door. She heard him mumbling on his way out. "Been used." "Philips." "Gardiner."

It had been three days before Henry appeared downstairs again and another three days before he relaxed a little.

Elizabeth was anything but satisfied. However, she would not bring up again her sisters or her mother. Well, she would, but not until Papa was rested, well and relaxed. But what had he meant? Why did he say "Been used." And was he mumbling about Uncle Phillips and Uncle Gardiner? What had they to do with it?"

Elizabeth was grateful that they had talked about Longbourn's tenants before she had brought up Lydia. Elizabeth had been completely satisfied with that conversation.

It had not upset her father. In fact, he had been appalled at the condition of the tenants and the estate. "Of course they should have seed to plant, access to horses to till, and roofs that do not leak. Do what you need to. Find someone better to run it." Here he had paused, thoughtful for a moment. "If you have time, you better look at the other estates, too. Petrie is a good man, but he is in the law. Do not know if they think about tenants. We cannot have little children cold and hungry."

_"Other estates?" _thought Elizabeth. Never mind that for now. She could have cheered. Papa had just given her control. Petrie may grumble, but he would let her at the books. He would abide her orders, too. Finally, after all these years, she could really help their people. From what her father had just said, there were a lot more tenants to worry about than just those at Longbourn.

She had a lot more questions, but Petrie would be able to answer them. She would make him lay everything out.

Elizabeth had known that Papa would be kind. He always was kind and generous, IF you brought up someone's need and IF you explicitly asked for his help. He was not going to think of anything on his own, except for his science.

But this just made the business with her mother and sisters even more troublesome.

Elizabeth bit her lip. She had wanted to get permission to send the girls to a school, or at least to install a strict governess. And she wanted the truth of this hedgerows business.

"Cousin Will." Wills was now truly the head of this family. Surely he would help her figure this out.

Once he could tolerate her company again.

Closing her eyes, she smiled to herself. She would settle things with him. And working with the tenants and estates would be much more pleasurable than preparing for a season.

Relaxing, she began to doze off when an image appeared in her mind. Her eyes flew open. _"Mr. Darcy! Whatever is he doing here?"_


	5. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Grosvenor Street, January 8, 1812**

Caroline Bingley was pacing the floor of her sitting room. They had been in London since the end of November and she had only seen her brother at Christmas. And Mr. Darcy, not at all!

Things were not as they should be. She was to have been engaged by now! She had seen it all. A huge wedding, a few weeks after Easter. London would be completely full then. The cathedral would be filled to overflowing by all those who mattered. Yes. It was better to wait. Maybe even to make it the last great event of the season. A late July wedding?

Then, again, if the wedding were soon, she would be able to be presented to the Queen as Mrs. Darcy. Oh, how yummy that would be. Not only that, but she would travel to Rosings at Easter and be introduced to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

_"Hmm. Lady." _Something would have to be done about that. How would they go about getting a title? It was done all the time. Surely it would not be difficult.

Of course, she could not send Darcy off to battle to get it. He was not a soldier. And what if he actually died, leading a brave charge? Then where would she be? Stuck in Derbyshire. That is where. With that mousy Georgiana, no doubt. And wearing only black. No. No. It would not do. Black was not her color.

Well, if she did have to be a widow, she would spend that tedious mourning period preparing for a spectacular reintroduction to society. A grand ball at Darcy House. Darcy house would have to be redone. That would be a very pleasant use of some mourning time. And the clothes! As a widow, she would be allowed such daring cuts. And the colors!

But wait. What if she became with child? Her figure would be ruined. How was she to attract a peer if she did not have her figure?

Did not they say that it was marital duties that gave you a child? Yes. They also said there were a lot of marital duties until one provided an heir. _"What exactly are those distasteful duties that Louisa complains about? I must ask her again."_

Of course, Darcy would certainly want an heir. So she probably would be with child before she was widowed. Well, then, maybe getting a title through battle was not such a good idea. Widowed and with a babe and Georgiana and no figure? No. There must be a better way. At any rate, look at Colonel Fitzwilliam. All those times he has been to war and still he has no title. War might take entirely too long, even if she did not become a widow.

And besides, she really wanted a titled Darcy. Not a different peer after she was widowed. Darcy was sooo handsome. They made a striking couple. The ton would be green with envy.

She paused by the window and absently drummed her finger on the sill. Maybe a gift to the crown? What should it be? Money? Something rare? Something rare probably meant travel. People got killed traveling, too. The whole widow thing again. Besides, money or something rare, it would have to be a very large gift to buy a title. _"A large gift of MY money!"_ Better to think of another way.

Caroline's musings were interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Come."

"Begging your pardon, mam. There is a Miss Jane Bennet here to see you and Mrs. Hurst."

_"Jane Bennet! Here! After I ignored her letter? We have to keep her from Charles at all costs!"_ Caroline was about to order the servant to tell Jane they were not at home, when an idea stuck her. _"Perfect." _

"Show her into the morning room. And ask Mrs. Hurst to join me here."

"Very good, mam."

This was it! It was perfect! Darcy would have to see her now. They would have to conspire on how to keep Jane from seeing Charles! Finally. She could see it now. They would sit with their heads together. Whispering softly all their plans. She would be engaged in no time at all.

**Clapham Common, January 8, 1812**

Nine estates! Nine! And they included Purvis Lodge and Netherfield Park! _"Great Heavens. I would love to see Miss Bingley's face when she finds out she is our tenant!"_

The door had just closed behind Petrie and Elizabeth was trying to assimilate all this new information. Will had taught her well. She had kept a strictly neutral face as she asked Petrie question after question. Now that she was alone, she let her astonishment wash over her.

Well, surely this put paid to Fanny's notion of hedgerows. Still, Elizabeth was not sure. There was something very serious pertaining to Fanny, something that deeply disturbed her father. Elizabeth had not a clue what it could be. Until she knew, she would not say a word to her mother or her sisters about all this.

But how to manage nine estates? Surely they were not all as neglected as Longbourn. Maybe it was the worst. It was the only one willed away_. "Do not go there now." _

She would have to visit them all and they were spread all over England. She would wait until the weather was suitable, maybe early summer.

She knew how to ride an estate. Will had taught her that, too. Uncle William had never let her go with them when he took Will out, but Will had always taken Elizabeth over the same ground a day or two later. She had learned a lot about estate management. About business, too. Still, nine! Petrie had said they were all small estates. Surely, combined, they would fit into a small corner of Chatsworth. It was not insurmountable.

She would just start with one. Study the books. Work her way through. Was this a good plan? Oh, how she would love to talk it over with Wills. Well, why not try? Surely they could not stay estranged for long. He would have no objections to dinner and discussing estates. Would he?

"Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth."

Riddle had found her in her little office, Purvis Lodge ledgers open on her desk.

"His Grace is here to see you. He is waiting in the dining room."

"Oh, thank you, Riddle!" Elizabeth flew from her chair and hurried off to the dining room.

Lizzy did not stay in this house often. When she was in London, she stayed at Devonshire House, sometimes Kent House. She did spend a lot of time with Henry here, but her home was somewhere else.

Almost this entire house had been turned into a series of laboratories. One room next to the kitchen even held a forge. Lizzy and Petrie had tiny offices on the main floor. Henry had a bedroom and private sitting room on the second floor. When she did stay here, Elizabeth slept in empty servant's quarters on the third floor. There was no drawing room.

Lizzy raced into the dining room. "Oh, Wills. You came. I just sent my note!" She flung herself into his open arms.

"Of course I came. Of course I will help you. Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry. I was so foolish. I won't bring up anything like that again. Please. Please, come home."

Tears in her eyes, buried in his arms, Lizzy nodded yes against his chest.


	6. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Mature Content**_

_**Piccadilly, February 7, 1812**_

_His formidable look firmly in place, Darcy stood on the side of the room. Inside, he was suffering pangs of conscience. His eyes were following Bingley as he danced. Bingley was smiling at his partner as she chattered away. The smile did not reach his eyes. Darcy had not seen a smile reach his eyes since their return to London. Bingley should have been in and out of love at least twice by now._

_"Enough. You did the right thing. Better a little heartbreak now than a lifetime, unloved, amidst such a family!" _

"Girls! Girls!" The sharp, loud tones drew Darcy out of his brooding. From the corner of his eye, he saw Viscountess Houghton fussing over her silly brood; pinching one's cheeks, loosening another's curls, and _"What?" _even tugging on another's bodice to lower it.

Darcy surreptitiously glanced around. He groaned. He was the only bachelor in sight. The Viscountess was preparing her flock for him! He looked quickly for an escape. It was too late. Here he was. Surrounded by a group of twittering girls. Oh, how he hated balls! How he wished he was at home, in front of his fire, alone with Elizabeth. _"Darcy, let it go!"_

He was in a ballroom, an Earl's ballroom and this family was high ton. He mustered his training as a gentleman and politely spoke to the ladies.

The end of the dance provided enough distraction for him to bow, excuse himself and get away. As he made for the door, he saw a head of chestnut curls disappearing through it. _"Elizabeth!" _He hurried after her, touched her on the arm, and she turned.

"Forgive me."

"Consider it my pleasure, Darcy." The sultry retort was accompanied by a welcoming smile and a twinkle in the bright eyes of the Widow Hamilton.

Still breathing hard, Lady Edith Hamilton pushed her sweaty hair out of her face, rolled off Darcy's body and closed her eyes.

Darcy felt the physical loss, but he was still buried in his fantasy. He was completely lost in loving Elizabeth Bennet .

Many long minutes later, Lady Hamilton sat up and spoke "Good Lord, that was amazing. Thank you, Darcy."

Her movement and her voice pulled him back to this real place.

"Consider it my pleasure," he said with a smile.

She ran her hand, once, down his muscled chest. Sighing, she rose from the bed and donned her dressing gown. "Now, we have to get you out of here without anyone seeing."

Still a little fuzzy, Darcy rose and dressed. Lady Edith led him through a passage in the wall and down to a side door. Peeking outside, she saw no one.

"All clear. And thank you, again. Hamilton was so old and so is Marsden. At least I managed a man in between."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a pat on his bottom and he was gently pushed out into the night.

**Cheapside, February 8, 1812**

Jane settled gratefully into her seat as the carriage pulled away. She would sleep at Longbourn tonight. She felt as if she were raw. Mr. Bingley had not come. If he had, maybe Jane would have gone to Devonshire House to stay with Lizzy and Will. After everything Will had seen in his own parents' lives, she had much hope that he would be sympathetic. He could help them with the rest of the family. But Mr. Bingley had not come. Had he given up? Was the gulf between their stations too much for him to even try?

Maybe, she hoped, he had never known she was in town. Jane finally acknowledged that Elizabeth may have the right of it here. Miss Bingley was not her friend. She had waited three weeks to return her call. It was clear she did not want to see Jane . again. Jane could not believe her insinuations about Miss Darcy. Charles could not be so fickle. Could he? If the business about Miss Darcy was untrue, perhaps she lied about Mr. Bingley knowing she was in town.

But, then again, he had not returned to Netherfield. Jane did not know what to think.

Edward Gardiner watched his carriage roll out of sight. It would carry his niece back to Longbourn. What little he had seen of her, she had been as sweet and pleasant as always. Still, he had felt vaguely uncomfortable. Like he should be doing something more for her. Why should he feel like that? He was a good uncle to her. He was not the one who had made that dark bargain. He was certainly not responsible for what Fanny had done. Was it true that Henry would throw her into the hedgerows when he died? He had certainly ripped Longbourn away, giving it to that Collins. That could have just been anger.

All in all, though, Edward felt lucky that Fanny had not been deposited on his door step many years ago. And how could she complain and moan so loudly over all this? Had she put the truth of the matter out of her mind? Even if she found out Henry had money, how could she deceive herself that any of it would be hers?

Edward had always felt that Henry was a decent man. Very odd, but decent. Maybe he would make some additional provision for Fanny and the younger girls, in spite of everything. Edward Gardiner closed his eyes. He could feel it. He did know. Henry would think that it was Edward's responsibility to provide for them. In a divine justice sort of way, maybe it was.

NEXT TIME: Some notes on the history that inspired me to start all this and

some flashbacks to how it all began.


	7. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: **Inspiration and History

First, I owe this story to all of you in the JAFF world. I found you first in bookstores and later online. You have given me much enjoyment and you set my mind free. Then, I read a little biographical story about Henry Cavendish. Together with all the P&P musings you have inspired, it gave me the idea for this little tale.

Our Henry is fashioned after the famous British researcher, Henry Cavendish. He was brilliant, had a long and productive life, and is remembered as one of history's great men of science. He also suffered from some sort of psychological condition that would probably be easily named today. Several of you, more educated and experienced than I, are recognizing his condition as on the autism spectrum.

He was the grandson of both the 2nd Duke of Devonshire and the 1st Duke of Kent. He was an extremely shy and reclusive man who never married, was raised with a miserly allowance and died one of the richest men in England.

I have given him a fictional private life. The details of Henry's non-Bennet related life, the Cavendish and Grey families and the houses and estates, are as true to history as my inadequate researches can make them. Even the estates of Longbourn, Netherfield Park and Purvis Lodge are based on the real estates of Putteridge, Lilley and Hackwellbury, which came to Henry's father with marriage.

These estates, by the way, were conveniently located in Hertfordshire near the small market town of Hitchin, which will be our Meryton. While not lying 24 miles from Gracechurch Street, they are only about 10-15 miles more than that.

Another interesting aside, the village of Kimpton is about 6 miles south of Hitchin and it has a church with a Darce chapel. Moreover, it sits on a dried up riverbed and flooded recently (Feb. 2001.) "The dried up river Kym, which was now a vital road, emerged again and followed its natural course from Netherfield Springs..."1 Indeed.

In real history, Henry's father sold off the three Hertfordshire estates before Henry had a chance to inherit them. We shall, of course, not do that. We do need Longbourn. In addition, we shall give Henry Cavendish some extra life. He really died in 1810 and we shall hold onto him a little longer.

I am thankful for all the source material out there and I owe a special thanks to George Wilson, M.D., F.R.S.E., for his 1851 biography and Internet Archives for making it available. I will try to give a comprehensive bibliography at the end of the story and in the meantime, footnotes where they should appear. (Except for any of JA's words. We all know they belong to her.)

But, **THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. **It may have a very tiny historical backbone, but the only things that people actually did or said show up in the first chapter below. Even this scene is my fantasy loosely based on what really occurred.

1. "Kimpton, Hertfordshire," Wikipedia, Feb. 26, 2011, .org/wiki/Kimpton,_Hertfordshire

**Chapter 8**

**Crown and Anchor Pub, June 6, 1788**

Henry Cavendish, as was his wont, was oblivious to the world around him. Constructing movements of constellations in his mind, he had not noticed that he was now alone. He had missed Davy's entrance into the pub, his ribald comments about the pretty girl in the window across the way, his other companions' enthusiastic interest and the noisy exit of the whole group.

He reached for his ale. Something was odd. He slowly returned to the present and glanced around his table. All the partially finished drinks were there. Marsden's hat. Pencils and notes. But his Royal Society friends were gone. Henry shyly glanced around the pub. The other patrons were all drinking, laughing, talking and gambling. No one seemed to pay him, or his missing companions, any mind.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, he made his way around the edge of the room and out the door. He saw his group across the way, all looking up. As astronomy had been the conversation of the evening, he shuffled up behind them and looked at the night sky. He wondered what question had brought them all out for a look see. Their laughter and comments brought his eyes back down toward earth. Yes. They were looking up, but not at the sky.

Following their eyes, Henry's breath caught in his throat. There, in the window, floated a magnificent bosom. It was barely contained in a low cut pink gown, around which was loosely draped a translucent pink wrap. It gave the impression that those ample breasts were floating in soft pink clouds. A golden curl hung down, resting lightly atop one of those lush lobes. Everything was slightly quivering with the owner's gentle laughter. Henry was instantly hard. Hard in a way he had not been for years. He had never seen anything so erotic in his life.

Davy noticed Henry standing behind the group. "Look lovely Anne, even Cavendish cannot resist your charms."

Henry was mortified to be seen staring at the girl. He immediately called out "Pshaw!"2, turned abruptly, and fled back to the Crown and Anchor.

But he did not forget. Not waking, not sleeping, not eating, not working. Desire he had thought long gone now followed him everywhere. Surely everyone could tell what he was thinking. He had to get away. Away from all who knew him.

Thus Henry Cavendish , 57 years old, immensely wealthy having inherited not only from his father but several childless family members as well, fled his home in Clapham Common and ventured to a place he had never been, his inherited estates in Hertfordshire.

2. Wilson, George , M.D., F.R.S.E., The Life of the Honorable Henry Cavendish, London, Harrison and Son, 1851, page 170. .org/stream/170/mode/2**up**

**Meryton, July 11, 1788**

Fanny Gardiner, shoeless, crept quietly down the staircase. Father's clerk, Mr. Philips, had stayed for dinner. Fanny knew what that meant. There was something to talk about, something important, either unfinished or new. Fanny intended to listen to the conversation.

From the time that she was tall enough to see out of the upstairs window, Fanny had watched the streets of Meryton. As she grew, she came to adore the beautiful matching clothing of some of the ladies. She also loved their pomp and circumstance. The elegant carriages, the servants jumping down to lower the steps, and the dainty way the ladies stepped out. She wanted to be just like them when she grew up.

Then, she began to understand class. It was not so noticeable at first. Meryton was a small community. Her parents were often in company with many fine gentlemen and ladies. Several of these handsome people came to their home to dine or to play cards. But the real disparity of station did intrude. Her father's bow would be met with a nod of the head. They kept no carriage of their own. They had no man to answer the door. She was not truly welcome as a playmate for the daughters of estates.

Well, she would marry a gentleman and then she would be one of them. She was sure that she was not so beautiful for nothing.

Sadly, the true chasm between their situation and hers become clear when Fanny came out. Vivacious, curvaceous and really, truly beautiful, she had danced every dance and always had an admiring crowd. She loved flirting with the soldiers, but they were not first sons.

The neighborhood did not hold many, but there were a few.

Not one of them came to call. Not one.

She had tried allowing kisses, or a little more, on a terrace during a ball or in a dark garden.

They did not come to call.

She was already seventeen. She was increasingly uncomfortable with way Mr. Philips followed her with his eyes. She would not marry her father's clerk. Her sister could have him. Fanny would not live the life her mother did. She would marry a gentleman, and soon.

The question was how. She very carefully thought out different ways to be compromised by one of them, and to be seen. It was a dangerous game. If the man did not marry her, she would be ruined. Before she went down that perilous road, she would look for a safer way.

She needed more information about these young gentlemen and their families. She set out to give herself some power. She was sure there was something that would be useful in her father's files. She could not get to them. Father kept them carefully locked away.

But she found she could listen. She was careful not to be caught.

**Longbourn, July 14, 1788 **

Gardiner had carefully followed Petrie's instructions. The two female servants were ordered to remain below stairs and out of sight. The male servant was not to speak unless spoken to. Gardiner had a great curiosity to see this eccentric client.

When Henry arrived, they went quickly and quietly through the house. As they approached the library's french doors, Henry turned to Gardiner. "I wish to see the gardens alone." Without waiting for a reply, Henry stepped outside.

Fanny's listening had paid off. She could not hear much, but enough to know that the wealthy, older and single owner of Longbourn arrived today. She dressed with extra care, walked to the estate, and was now hiding in the gardens, awaiting her chance.

She was shocked when she first espied him, as he exited his carriage. He was so old. Much older than her father. She was astonished at his clothing, a purple velvet suit and such lacy cuffs and collar! She almost ran back home. Calming herself, she took another look. It was a handsome face. A few more deep breaths and her mind was focused on the important things. _"I would be mistress of the neighborhood's largest estate. He is so old and funny. How many women can he have admiring him? None, I venture. Certainly none with my charms. We shall see."_

Fanny saw the library door open and hurried to her predetermined place.

Henry rounded the stone wall and saw before him a vision. It was the luscious bosom of his dreams. He was about to hurry away when it occurred to him that she did not know he was there. He backed up carefully, to be mostly hidden by the edge of the wall.

Those beautiful breasts were almost spilling out of her gown. She was bending down, hands at her ankle.

Oh, Fanny knew he was there. She slowly ran her hands up her calf, as though adjusting her stocking. She knew she had an elegant leg. Then, she gently lowered her dress and began to slowly sit up and raise her head.

Henry quickly spun behind the wall. Fanny was quick, too. She hurried forward and rounded the corner.

"My goodness, sir. Excuse me," she purred as she 'accidentally' bumped, chest leading, full into him. "Forgive for not watching where I was going. I am Francis Gardiner, Attorney Gardiner's daughter." She breathed in and out deeply, knowing it would set her bosom heaving.

Henry was transfixed, staring at her chest. His body burned where she had touched him. Fanny smiled internally. Suddenly, Henry bowed, turned and fled away.

Three days later, Gardiner received a visit from Petrie. Cavendish wished to occupy Longbourn, to immediately begin build another house behind it, and to marry his daughter, Francis!

Not only that, Cavendish wished his true identity to be kept secret. He would use a different name in the country. He was firm that no one in town could know of his private life and no one here could know he was a Cavendish. He was unsure what the future would bring, but for now, Fanny was not to speak to him at all! He would send notes to communicate with her and she was to do the same with him. Petrie tried to explain that Cavendish was a good man, he would be kind to her, but he was unable to look at or speak with women.

Gardiner's first response was a resounding NO. Fanny may be an ignorant and silly creature, but he would not bind her to such a strange and elderly man.

But Petrie's reputation as an astute and accomplished man of business was well deserved. He suggested that Gardiner ask his daughter for her opinion. Petrie would take a room at the local inn. Perhaps Mr. Gardiner would join him for dinner tomorrow?

To Gardiner's surprise, Fanny had been all for the match. She very much wished to be mistress of that estate. And if she rarely saw her odd husband, so much the better.

Over dinner and brandies, Petrie saw some more of the nature of the man before him. There was something cold here. He was hesitating, but Petrie detected a calculating going on below the surface. Suggestions of a generous settlement for Fanny had produced little response. Another brandy and Petrie found out. Mr. Gardiner had no real interest in his daughter's settlement. What he did have an interest in was his eleven year old son, Edward. Gardiner saw the future and it was in trade. He wanted his son educated. Eton and Cambridge. He wanted to see Gardiner Enterprises, a trading firm, bringing in exotic goods from the East.

A generous settlement was made. It was made upon Edward Gardiner.

A fortnight later, Fanny found herself married. Not with the large wedding of her dreams, but by a minister with only her father and Petrie as witnesses. At least it was by special license.

Following Henry's written request, she was now in the mistress chambers awaiting his arrival. The room was completely dark. She was in the bed, under the covers. Fanny had added her own touch. She was naked.

She was not really nervous and she was pleased. She had a very generous allowance, an enormous amount of money to buy her trousseau, five thousand pounds settled on her, and their son was to inherit Longbourn. She was satisfied. She was now not only landed gentry, but was the leading lady of the neighborhood. How she would crow.

She was resolved on giving every enjoyment to this strange man. She knew why he had married her. She was sure her allowance would do nothing but grow. And jewelry, she wanted jewelry.

Henry took a deep breath. He was proud he had made it this far. He climbed hesitantly into the bed. He started to flee when his hand touched bare skin. Fanny was too quick for him. She wrapped herself around him and brought his hands back to her.

The newly minted Henry Bennet was very satisfied as he buried himself in the flesh that had so consumed his mind.


	8. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

_**Bond Street, March 2, 1812**_

_Caroline stood very still, just outside the doorway of the shop. "Yes. It is that tart! Laughing and clinging to that man's arm! Who is he? He is so handsome. Wait, wait. They are getting in a carriage. Maybe I can see the coat of arms. Oh. Oh my!" _She had to hurry home. She had to talk to Louisa. She felt triumphant.

**Longbourn, March 2, 1812**

Dearest Lizzy,

I was afraid I would miss you in London, so I am sending my letter straight to Hunsford. I hope your journey was an easy one and you found Charlotte comfortably situated. Please give my kindest greetings to her and to Mr. Collins.

I was very happy to hear that things are mostly returned to normal with Cousin Will. I was sure it would all turn out well.

It is middle morning and the house is now quiet. We have had a great deal of company of late, most of it wearing handsome red coats.

Mama and our sisters have gone into Meryton to visit with Aunt Philips. I am all alone. I must say I feel a little relieved. I know Mama means well. She cannot know how it pains me when she so often speaks of Mr. Bingley.

I beg you, for my sake, to continue to say nothing of this matter to Will. What use is there to ask his opinion on the match? There is no match. It will only cause him to be concerned for me. He has his own mourning and so very many responsibilities. He does not need to also worry for me.

And, I must resign myself. I have heard nothing and Netherfield remains closed. It must be true that Mr. Bingley has given up. Perhaps, more sadly, it is true that he now no longer cares for me. I am resolved that I will soon think upon it no more.

Please do not worry for me. I promise, Lizzy. I shall be well.

Your loving sister,

Jane

**Grosvenor Street, March 2, 1812**

Charles Bingley was about to enter the drawing room, when he heard his sisters' voices. He did not wish to see them right now. Turning to leave, he heard the words "Eliza Bennet." He stopped to listen.

"Yes, Louisa. She was holding tightly to his arm. They were talking and laughing. Such a display. I am almost certain he was the Duke of Devonshire."

"Well, no wonder her clothes are so fine. And perhaps she thinks that being mistress to a Duke allows her to be so impertinent to her betters. Oh, Caroline, you really were right."

"Yes. Yes. But the question is how to use this. Such news! Who shall we tell? What shall we say?"

"Nothing," came the stern voice from the door. "You shall say nothing." Charles stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Charles! We did not see you there."

"Clearly. And do let me be clear. You will not spread this rumor. It is untrue. Being the source of such vile slander will ruin us all. Devonshire will destroy you, and the rest of us with you."

"Charles! How dare you speak to me is such a fashion! What do you mean it is untrue? I was there. I saw them. I know."

"Caroline," Charles replied, gentling his voice, "You do not know. You completely misunderstood what you saw."

"But"

Charles raised his hand to stop her. "No but. I have let you run your own way, spreading gossip and slighting everyone you can. You will not spread this. And you had better be careful, even if you two talk about what I am saying now, do it behind closed doors. If a servant hears, gossip may spread."

Charles knew he had not yet stopped Caroline. She lived in her own world. He needed to be more firm. "If I hear one word of this out amongst the ton, one word, I will send you to Scarborough and there you can say. And Caroline, I do not care how the gossip starts. If I hear it, I will hold YOU to account."

The uncharacteristic power and the calm sternness of his voice had both sisters stunned. He turned to leave the room but paused by the door. Caroline needed an even more potent reminder. He was not the same man who had left Netherfield Park last November. He would protect Jane, at least from this. He would deliver this blow.

"Caroline, you do not know what you are about. You must remember who you are. You are a tradesman's daughter. Our kind," Here is voice broke at little, but he controlled it. "Our kind does not spread slander about a Duke and then expect to be recognized again. Spread this rumor and your days in society are over."

Charles left. Caroline and Louisa sat silently in his wake.

**Darcy House, March 2, 1812**

Fitzwilliam Darcy rolled his shoulders to relieve a little more tension and then settled back into the chair, stretching his long legs out before him.

Georgiana was spending more and more time downstairs. She was better. He wished he could bundle her into the carriage and take them both off to Pemberley. If he had gotten control of himself a little sooner, they could be there now. But it was too late. It was too close to his trip to Rosings. He would just have to continue caring for her here. She had smiled today. She looked up with interest when he suggested they take a few days off to enjoy themselves, maybe just spend time wandering through the British Museum. That had earned the smile.

It was Darcy's turn to smile at the thought of His Grace. At least that particular friend's spirit was much improved. They had spent several peaceful evenings together, dining and talking at White's. Will had not brought up his cousin again, but Darcy felt he had been able to be a sounding board for some of Will's new concerns. Will's company had also brightened Darcy's mood. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed spending time with his serious, young friend. Even as children, with Will six years Darcy's junior, he had felt attached. It was Will's Cambridge friendship, with an open and happy young man, that had brought Bingley into Darcy's life.

Bingley had moved back to his own home nearly a month ago. Darcy had seen little of him since. Bingley had not opened his heart. He had not wanted to talk about Hertfordshire at all. This was truly unusual for him. None of Darcy's efforts, including all those forays into society, seemed to lighten Bingley's mood. He must be sincerely fixated on Jane Bennet. Well, Darcy could sympathize with that.

Elizabeth. Darcy sighed. At least he was no longer in a frenzy, running away from her, trying to replace her or chasing after her. He knew he could never have her. Her connections were too low and the impropriety of her family too high.

But, she refused to go away. So, to maintain his sanity, he decided they would declare a truce. He would stop fighting to throw her out and she would make an effort to come only when he was alone. Maybe she would fade over time.

His mind was generally holding to the fragile peace he had made. He was able to attend to business, exercise, enjoy his club, dine with his sister, and, happily, avoid society. And he was pleased he no longer had to chase her away when she appeared - sitting by the fire, playing the pianoforte, strolling at his side, moaning in his bed...

**Devonshire House, March 2, 1812**

There was a knock from inside the wall. A panel opened slightly.

"Are you decent?" asked the deep, gentle voice.

Lizzy smiled. "Few would say I am ever decent. However, I am waiting for you."

Will closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He would not do or say anything foolish. He was lost if she left again. Putting in place a calm face, he entered, brandy decanter and glasses in hand. He settled himself by the fire and poured their drinks.

"Lizzy, if it is alright with you, I am going to invite a friend to dinner when you return from Kent. His situation is quite a bit larger than yours, but his main focus has always been his home estate. I envy his skill as master. His tenants are comfortable and prosperous, his villages and towns appear well cared for, and his servants are completely loyal. He is not only a fine, honorable man, he also has keen mind and may rival you in wit. I think you will like him and he may be of great help to you."

"Then, how can I refuse? It is not often one is offered the opportunity to see such a paragon of virtue! I should be delighted to meet him. I shall steel myself not to embarrass you. I should hate to be speechless in such a presence."


	9. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Road to Rosings, March 5, 1812**

Sir William and Maria were quiet for now, seeming to enjoy the passing scenery.

Elizabeth had stayed two days with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner before setting out with the Lucases today. If not for a consistent, slight unease emanating from Uncle, it would have been a completely pleasant stay. She wondered what was weighing so heavily on his mind.

Elizabeth had much enjoyed the company of her young cousins. The two eldest delighted in exploring her father's laboratories yesterday. She had also welcomed the companionship of her aunt. And, as always, it was a respite to be in company that knew her as both Elizabeth Cavendish and Elizabeth Bennet.

Now, on to Rosings. How was Charlotte really feeling, married to Collins? Elizabeth shuddered. And what of the famous Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Was she as arrogant and proud as her nephew? Then there was his betrothed. Whatever else this visit may be, it was certainly going to be entertaining.

**Rosings Park, March 12, 1812**

Lady Catherine de Bourgh sat in state, on her throne, in Rosings main drawing room. After she had satisfied herself that Mrs. Collins needed no further instruction for the moment, she turned her attention to Elizabeth.

"Your father's estate is entailed upon Mr. Collins, I think." She required no answer and went on speaking.

Elizabeth thought to herself, _"No. I do not think that. I know that men on the Grey side are few and far between. But, I am sure that I heard Mr. Collins spoken of as a distant Cavendish relation. There are so many Cavendish males one could trip over them. No, I do not think it is an entailment."_

Lost in her musings, she almost missed Lady Catherine's question.

"Do you play and sing Miss Bennet?"

It was the first question of many. Elizabeth patiently answered all the inquiries, not lying but not exposing her true situation. It did require her full attention_. _

**Hunsford Parsonage, March 22, 1812**

Elizabeth sat in Charlotte's parlor, letting her mind wander. Mr. Darcy was arriving tomorrow. She was most anxious to see him interact with his betrothed. Anne de Bourgh was a pale, sickly creature. Elizabeth had first felt sympathy for the isolated girl. However, try as she might to interact with Miss de Bourgh, Elizabeth had been met with nothing but arrogance and ill temper. She hoped that the Darcy servants were well paid. And the poor tenants! With two such cross people running an estate, the atmosphere would be unbearable.

Elizabeth smiled to herself. If she had to be a tenant on either Rosings or Pemberley, she would certainly choose Rosings.

Yes. Lady Catherine did have an exaggerated notion of superiority, but she did not come close to Will's father in that. Lady Catherine always put Mr. Collins at the foot of the table. A parson in a place of honor. Why the old Duke could hardly bear to have his own flesh and blood, if they had a profession, anywhere at the table. One did not dine with people who worked.

As to dependents, Elizabeth doubted that Mr. Darcy ever set foot in a tenant's home. He could barely stand to be in the same room with Meryton society. Share a room with a laborer, never!

Lady Catherine, on the other hand, actively visited and interfered. Yes, she was rudely inquisitive, overbearingly intrusive, constantly scolding, and she gave orders with disdain. Elizabeth could not like her. But she could respect her. Lady Catherine seemed to uniformly act on good principles. There were good motives for those in her care. She may go about it in an officious way, but she aimed for peace, harmony and prosperity.

**Rosings Park, April 6, 1812**

She had met Mr. Darcy on her walk. Again. The gods were perverse. And he found it necessary to walk her back to the parsonage. Elizabeth stole a sidelong glance at the handsome, silent man. Would he think the better of her if he knew her true connections? Elizabeth had come to believe it unlikely. He was quietly contemptuous of everyone, even his betrothed.

What he was doing here, where she had told him she walked, Elizabeth did not understand. His behavior to her at Rosings had been even more severe than at Meryton. His harsh staring was even more relentless.

Well, such a taciturn, and if what Mr. Wickham had said was true, immoral man, was not worth her bother. Thank goodness he was to leave in a few days. Elizabeth had used up nearly all the civility she possessed. If not for the happy presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam, this would have been a trying time indeed.

**Road to Tunbridge Wells, April 9, 1812**

As he did every year, Garibaldi Petrie, Henry Cavendish's man of business for more than thirty years, had gone on holiday. He was unmarried. He had no siblings. His parents were gone. He had spent the last five holidays looking for a good place to relax and live out his final years. His nest egg was large enough, but he had been delaying the decision to move on.

Henry was twenty years his senior, but Petrie felt a lot like a parent, a fiercely protective parent. He did not want to leave Henry vulnerable.

Finally, Elizabeth was almost of age. She was a magnificent creature; clever, strong and determined. He smiled to himself. In a few more years, she would be formidable. He knew she had seen him as hostile when they discussed the estates. He made everything as difficult for her as he could. He volunteered nothing. She had to scratch and dig for what she got. She had gotten everything she needed. And she had handled the situation with poise, grace and power.

Elizabeth's competence had reassured Petrie. She would protect Henry. Petrie would have to tell her some unpleasant truths first, but then he could retire.

He had left home early this morning, in his little phaeton. He was headed for Tunbridge Wells. Good things were being said about the place and it was near enough to London. He would not feel isolated if he moved there. Most especially, he wanted to try their waters. He was really feeling the indigestion these days. Maybe the waters would help.

Rubbing his stomach, he rose from the table. He might suffer a little later, but the food at this inn was quite good. He would have to make a note of the name for next time. If this all worked out, it would be a nice resting place on his trips to and from London. Reaching for his purse to pay, he fumbled it a little and it dropped on the table.

He quickly put it away and looked around to see if he had acquired anyone's interest. It was the start of his holiday and his purse was fat. Thieves were always a concern. All looked well. He would keep up his guard for a while, just in case.

**Hunsford, April 9, 1812**

Mr. Darcy had just proposed. She could scare believe it. She had been, at first, sorry for the pain he was to receive. Then, she lost all compassion to anger as he became eloquent on the subject of her inferiority. He dwelt with warmth on the degradation he was to suffer, the consequence he was wounding, and the judgment he had to overcome to offer his suit.

Elizabeth was standing now, but still frozen, calming herself, preparing her response. Suddenly he approached her. He was so close. What was he doing? Bending his head down? He was going to kiss her!

Taking two quick steps back, she said "Mr. Darcy. You forget yourself. I have made you no answer. Let me do so now**..."**

She had tried to end this as painlessly as possible. But he would not leave. He questioned her. Finally, she lost all composure.

"And, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who prides himself on being the means of ruining the happiness of a most beloved sister? Mistaken though you may be, you congratulate yourself with it! And Mr. Wickham! Given your character, I begin to believe his story to be true! How do you defend yourself there?**...**"

**Devonshire House, April 9, 1812**

The Duke of Devonshire looked up from the stack of dispatches on his desk. They had arrived this afternoon, along with a polite order to appear tomorrow at St. James. Will knew that the Crown would extend to him many invitations that he could not to refuse. However, he had not expected this, not yet. He was too young, too inexperienced and too newly made.

Something unpleasant was afoot and if they wanted him, then they wanted his knowledge of Russia at the table. He knew his mastery was significant.

His thoughts flew to Elizabeth. What traveling companions they would be. His knowledge of Russia and the Continent, hers of the ancient world. And the languages they shared. If his father had lived longer and if Napoleon had been put down, Will was sure they would be somewhere exotic right now, a little house on a quiet Greek shore or in their felucca on the Nile. The sun, the smells, the bared flesh everywhere. Maybe it would awaken her, let her see him not as a brother but as a man.

Sighing, he returned to his desk. Napoleon had not been put down. Will was sure the little man was at the center of his call to service. He had best get these read. He knew he would only be a minor character in the play tomorrow, but he would be prepared.

A knock sounded on his door. He had left orders not to be disturbed.

"Enter."

"Forgive the interruption, Your Grace. Mr. Appleby, from the house of Henry Cavendish, is here. Distraught. He wants only you."

"You did the right thing to come to me, Norris. Put him in the Blue Room. I will be right there."

_"Uncle Henry's valet? And at this time of night." _Will picked up the dispatches to put them in the safe. His father's words rang in his head, every time he touched this lock, _"Put complete trust in your people until they prove you wrong. At the same time, never trust anyone." _Will headed off to the Blue Room.

A few minutes later, Will and Appleby entered the main hall. Will had his hand on the man's shoulder. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Easy. My man will be right behind you. Do you have a carriage?"

"Hackney, Your Grace. It should still be outside."

"Norris. Take care of Mr. Appleby's hackney. Give him enough to take him back home. Then send a message over to Kent House. Find out if Lady Hume-Campbell is still awake. If she is, tell her I want to come and see her, now, tonight. Prepare two carriages. And find Blevins. Wake him if you need to."

**Hunsford, April 10, 1812**

Darcy and Fitzwilliam rounded the hedge toward the parsonage. Despite Darcy's desperate desire not to see Elizabeth again, he knew he had to show up to take his leave. A gentleman would. _"Had you behaved in a more gentleman like manner."_ The pain ripped through him. Her other words, _"You are the last man in the world..." _

Fitzwilliam's words pulled him out of his memories. "Say, Darce. Whose carriage is that?"

Darcy looked up to see a large carriage and six quickly pulling away from the parsonage. He recognized the dragons on that crest. The late Marchioness. The Grey family.

Before he could answer, the obsequious Mr. Collins appeared, bowing and scrapping. "So many illustrious personages in one day..."

Neither Darcy nor Fitzwilliam listened to his prattle as he led them into the parlor. Mrs. Collins and her sister rose to greet them.

"We have come to take our leave," Fitzwilliam said, bowing graciously.

"We are pleased at your condescension sirs, but I am afraid you have missed Elizabeth. She had to depart suddenly."

"I hope everyone is well?" Darcy asked, staring intently at Mrs. Collins.

Charlotte took pity on him. Surely he was in love with Elizabeth. "I am sorry to say no, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth's father has died. Her relatio-, her friends arrived this morning to tell her and to take her to London."

"Shame on her!" interrupted Mr. Collins. "Keeping such illustrious personages waiting. Why they packed for her! The footmen tracked her down! She was out walking for hours!"

_"Relations," _thought Darcy. _"Mrs. Collins was about to say relations. The Greys. Greys? Relations? Impossible." _Darcy shook his head to clear his mind.

**London, April 11, 1812**

They had arrived at Darcy's house a little after mid-day. After both had refreshed themselves, they sat down to a cold luncheon. Fitzwilliam reached for the morning's paper.

"I say, Darcy. What a loss for England. Henry Cavendish has died."

All the color drained from Darcy's face. After a moment, he pulled the bell cord and gave his order. A few minutes later, a confused butler himself brought what had been asked for, a Debrett's.

"What are you doing, Darcy? I have never seen you with that."

"Looking up Henry Cavendish."

Fitzwilliam snorted. "He's a Cavendish. Son of some younger son. You know that."

"But who was his mother?"

"Can't say I recall. Maybe the paper says."

Almost at the same moment the two men spoke, "Grey."

"Daughter of the Duke of Kent. Lady Ann Grey." Fitzwilliam was reading from the paper. Darcy had seen it in Debrett's.

Fitzwilliam went back to his reading. He did not feel anything amiss. Fitzwilliam had not known the carriage crest. Fitzwilliam had not registered Mrs. Collins almost saying relations. Fitzwilliam had not been present when the Duke claimed Lizzy and Jane as cousins.

Her father has died. Henry Cavendish has died.

_"Oh, Lord. What have I done?"_

**END OF PART ONE**

**_Please let me know what you think. Thanks. _  
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	10. Chapter 1, Part 2

**Author's Notes: **Real Fitzwilliams and real Cavendishes were related. Of course, once you take a look, it is fairly clear that most of the high ton was related, often many times over.

William Fitzwilliam, 4th Earl Fitzwilliam, married Lady Charlotte Ponsonby. Her mother was the former Lady Caroline Cavendish, daughter of William Cavendish, 3rd Duke of Devonshire.

The only tweaks I had to make to use them in my story were 1) give the earl sisters named Catherine and Anne, and 2) let the earldom heir, Charles William Fitzwilliam, be born in 1783 instead of 1786, and 3) give Charles a younger brother, our Colonel Fitzwilliam.

This will, of course, make Lady Caroline Ponsonby, nee Cavendish, our dear Colonel's grandmother.

AND, the answers to all the questions you just asked are yes.

Yes. He really was Earl Fitzwilliam, not Earl of Fitzwilliam.

Yes. They did name the poor boy William Fitzwilliam.

Yes. The 3rd Duke of Devonshire was also a William Cavendish. All first seven dukes were.

**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 2**

**Chapter 1**

**Darcy House, April 11, 1812**

"Darcy. Darcy. Are you all right?"

Darcy pulled himself back to the room. "Sorry, Cousin, my mind wandered."

"Hmm," replied Fitzwilliam. Something was wrong here. Darcy had not been himself for months. It was worse at Rosings. Even worse on the trip back to London. And, if it was possible, things had just gone downhill. If Fitzwilliam was right, the something wrong had a name, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. If things did not change soon, Fitzwilliam would have to press for answers. He sincerely hoped that Darcy was not deeply in love with Miss Bennet. The woman had made it clear that she did not like Darcy.

"I was saying, Darcy, that my mother's mother was a Cavendish."

Darcy moaned. For the moment, he had forgotten that.

"I am sure that mother and father intend to travel to Derby for the funeral, along with half the ton, probably. I need to head home. May I borrow a carriage?"

"Of course Fitzwillam. Send a note later with your plans." With that, Darcy headed out of the room and up the stairs. He needed to reach the privacy of his rooms.

Darcy shakily poured himself a brandy, set it down on the table and fell into his chair. After a few minutes, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

_She is even related to the Fitzwilliams. She is a Cavendish! _

_It does not matter. Even if she was daughter of the Duke himself, how could she so cavalierly dismiss me! I am Fitzwilliam Darcy! Mine is an ancient family! I am the Master of Pemberley, not some country parson with my hat in my hand. _

_I have every right to be proud! _

_"Your arrogance, your conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others."_

_No! I do nothing but care for others. It is my whole life! I was caring for Bingley, too. Surely she can see that._

_"You are the last man..."_

_Oh, Lord. She does not love me. She loathes me. My Elizabeth, my wife, refused me. _

Darcy drowned in his tortured vanity and his broken heart, long past dinner and into the night, until exhaustion gave way to troubled sleep.

**Longbourn, April 11, 1812**

Fanny Bennet awoke slowly and looked around her room. Mary dozed in a chair by the fire. Fanny lay back against her pillows. _So, he is dead. What shall become of me now? It is that girl. And she refused to marry Collins! If only she had been a son. Then I would be safe. If she had not come at all, I would still be safe.. She interfered! She is why he left me._

**Longbourn, December 28, 1791**

Beautiful little Jane, all Cavendish blond hair and Cavendish blue eyes, had played happily in Henry's drawing room that afternoon. She had been taken away a few hours ago. Her Gardiner relations took her home with them. Said it was better that she not hear the screaming. Henry knew his household was ill equipped to keep the toddler overnight. It would also have meant her nurse in the house.

So, alone, Henry paced. He worried for Fanny. He worried for the new child. Finally, Riddle came. Henry had a daughter. If Henry wished to come over to the master's chambers in the main house, once mother and child were settled, Riddle would bring the babe to him.

Riddle handed him the wrapped bundle. Henry took it carefully and settled himself into a chair. When he had first held Jane, he was very nervous, completely unsure how to handle something so fragile. Henry was more confident now. He had experience.

The baby continued to sleep comfortably in his arms. He looked down at his new daughter. _My child. _

This girl did not have blond Cavendish hair. _Darker brown, like the Greys. _

Then, she opened her eyes. Big, wide dark eyes looked intensely into Henry's own.

Henry could not remember his mother. She had died before he was two. But something deep inside Henry must have remembered. Those were his mother's eyes looking up at him.

Henry was deeply, tenderly drawn to this new life in his arms.

**Clapham Common, April 11, 1812 **

Elizabeth sat near her father, hands folded in her lap. There was a pause between callers. Tea was on the table, growing cold.

By the time she arrived yesterday, Appleby had already washed, dressed and laid out her father. Elizabeth felt the loss in her hands themselves. They, her hands, had needed to do that for Papa, a last act of love, an expression of respect, a tribute to the worldly remains of his now gone soul, something. Her hands ached with the loss.

But her mind could not begrudge Appleby's having done it. Elizabeth knew he felt her father's death as keenly as she did. She had the doctor slip him a little laudanum last night. Appleby would otherwise have no rest. She would have to find the man a place, something to do, in her own house or he would just waste away.

_My own house. Where would that be? _She had five different houses where her bedroom and sitting room were always waiting for her. Yet, it now seemed that having her father at Clapham Common was the anchor for everything. She felt adrift.

Then she looked over at her Aunt Amelia. _"But I am not alone." _

Elizabeth watched the elegant lady. Lady Amabel sat straight-backed, busily adding black lace to something. At this moment, Elizabeth wished that she could, if not embroider or knit, at least sew. She had never before lamented the absence of these womanly arts. Now, she needed an occupation.

Then, Elizabeth almost choked as she remembered last night.

_Aunt Amelia had refused to leave. Sometime after midnight, she fell asleep. Elizabeth tucked a blanket around her. _

_Elizabeth was finally alone with her father. She sat for a long time, the house growing quiet around her. Then, she stood up and walked over to Henry. Oh, how still he was. Elizabeth bent over and kissed him on the forehead. She stepped back, shocked. He was so cold. Oh, heavens. He was dead. Really dead. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. _

**Grosvenor Street, April 11, 1812**

When Charles Bingley had read the morning paper, his thoughts had instantly flown to Jane. _Poor, sweet Jane. How she must be suffering. _

_Is she here, in London? _Henry Cavendish was to be laid to rest in Derby in a few days. The family would start the long journey, tomorrow, with a procession through London. Respects could be paid this afternoon at Clapham Common. _Should I go there?_

In the end, he had decided to call on Will at Devonshire House. The Duke had not been home. Bingley had left his card and condolences for the family. He had not been brave enough to ask after Jane or even Miss Elizabeth. Nor had he been brave enough to go to Clapham Common. It had been four and a half months since he had seen her. _How can I face her now? And, nothing has changed. She will never be mine._

He sat in his study with the door closed. It seemed to be his standard place these days. Well, at least his business was not being neglected anymore. Smiling, happy Charles Bingley was lost somewhere. This Charles Bingley was seriously looking into his concerns.

He laughed to himself. How would Caroline feel if she knew that they not only came from trade, but that they were still in trade? _Up to our ears._

He shifted his attention to his desk. The Felling Mine. That partnership was earning a handsome profit. _I should visit the mine. I will visit the mine. _Bingley was overdue at Scarborough. He would visit both this summer.

**Meryton, April 11, 1812**

Philips sat in the Highlander Pub, nursing his ale. So, the old goat was finally dead. Philips still bristled from the ridiculous creature having stolen Fanny. _She was mine! _She was part and parcel of his taking the position with old Gardiner. He had plans for all that flesh. And to become stuck with the bony, ugly sister!

Well, there was the situation at hand to consider now. There had to be a way. Philips could almost smell the money to be made. True, he had not been able to profit from it years ago. It was a mistake to try what he did. But Henry was dead now. What would the will say? All connections are still to be kept secret? _Yes. They are. Henry Bennet's body will arrive tomorrow. I will lay good odds that the casket is empty. Who will want to pay for my silence? _

_Who are the heirs? Perhaps another way will present itself._

At that moment, the door of the pub opened and a loud group of red coats came in. Philips spotted that weasel Wickham among them. _Too completely charming, that one. _Philips had recognized the flashes of cold calculation behind Wickham's eyes. And Fanny's youngest worshiped him. Well, perhaps the seed of another way had just presented itself.

The soldiers were now before Philips. One of the young, fresh faces was offering sincere condolences on the loss of his brother. Philips rose and thanked the men, adding "Gentlemen, please join me. Let me buy a round and we will toast my dear departed brother."

**Hunsford, April 11, 1812**

Charlotte Collins lay unsleeping. They were to depart for Hertfordshire early tomorrow morning.

She was sure that their condolences would be unwelcome. Mr. Collins, however, would not be gainsaid. He was now the Master of Longbourn and he considered it his duty. He would attend the burial of his predecessor. Charlotte would do all she could to moderate the pain that the appearance of the Collins would cause. However, whether or not any of them were ready for it, the time had arrived. Charlotte Collins was now the Mistress of Longbourn and the Bennets could no longer call it home.

Her thoughts returned to a familiar face, Mary Bennet. Every fiber of Charlotte's being longed to approach Mary, to ask her to stay at Longbourn as Charlotte's companion, to take care of her. Poor Mary, lost in a sea of beautiful sisters.

Charlotte knew it could never be. Somehow, this scandal had laid, unseen, for almost twenty years. Charlotte thought, on occasion, that her mother might be aware. However, Lady Lucas might look at Mary intensely from time to time, but nothing out of the ordinary. No, her mother did not know.

Perhaps it was because Charlotte had been careful never to stay too close to Mary in company. Her friendships with Lizzy and Jane made that easy. Or could it be that Charlotte was so much older or because their mothers dressed them so differently or was it the ways they did their hair or the fact that Mary wore glasses?

Whatever the reason, it had not been seen.

Charlotte had known herself lucky to have secured Mr. Collins. She was 27 and so very plain.

Mary was plain in exactly the same way. Their jaws were too strong, their noses too large, their lips too thin, their hair almost the same dull brown shade. Both half sisters had inherited the same strong Lucas traits.

It had made them both so very plain.

**Road to Longbourn, July 15, 1793**

The carriage sped toward Longbourn. Henry had left as soon as there was daylight. The express from Mr. Hill had arrived after dark yesterday. Mrs. Bennet's time had come. The mid-wife was with her at the estate.

Henry was frightened. He could not remember ever being this sort of terrified. There had been a feeling of fear when both Jane and Elizabeth were born, but nothing like this. Henry was a man of science. How many conversations had he heard on this subject? Childbirth was a killer of women, especially when something went wrong near the end of confinement. It was very often fatal.

Henry knew at this moment that he loved Fanny. He had known from the first that he was grateful to her. She had given him pleasures beyond what he had imagined. Fanny had done so without any censure of Henry's needs for dark and for no conversation.

Then, she had given him treasures. His beautiful little Cavendish Jane and his heart of hearts, his little Grey Elizabeth.

Now Fanny's time had come. It was too early. From Henry's calculations, it had to be nearly a month and a half too soon.

What would he find when he arrived at Longbourn? Did Fanny still live? Was this new child, tiny from its early birth, still clinging to life? How long would it last? A few hours? A day, maybe two? Was he about to bury his wife and a child?

Longbourn was quiet when they got there. Riddle went in first, to clear the women from Henry's path and to ascertain the situation.

When Riddle returned to the carriage, he was smiling.

"You have a new daughter, sir. Born early this morning. Both mother and daughter are doing well."

Henry was elated. _They live! _"May I see the child?"

"Yes, sir. I have cleared a way to the nursery. When we knock on the door, the wet nurse will move to the adjoining room until you leave."

Henry exited the carriage. He found himself standing in front of the nursery door, waiting while Riddle knocked. Henry did not remember entering the house or climbing the stairs.

Riddle looked inside to make sure the nurse was gone. He nodded to Henry and opened the door fully for him. Henry walked slowly over to the basket.

His hands gently undid the blankets and he looked down at the sleeping child. It was a plump, rosy, healthy girl. She was large, much larger than Jane or Elizabeth had been.

**Kent House, April 11, 1812**

Lady Amabel had known for years that Elizabeth was Henry's heir. Oh, he had loved Jane, but it was the little force of nature Lizzy that truly held his heart. Sometimes Amabel thought that Elizabeth was Henry's only true connection to another human being. Oh, he had his Royal Society. He had Amabel and the Cavendishes. But, Henry was never truly warm with anyone except Elizabeth. Amabel often wondered what it had been like for him with his wife.

_Now he is gone. _She knew that Elizabeth did not yet fathom what this would mean. Amabel sighed. _I will never be able to present her in the way she deserves. Those dreams are over. _Instead of her day at court followed by a spectacular ball, Elizabeth was to meet the ton at her father's funeral. Instead of glittering family jewels and a magnificent white gown, she would be unadorned and dressed all in black.

Not just that. Elizabeth was now an extremely wealthy woman. She had been hidden all her life and she would now be a very public figure. Many things would have to change. Elizabeth was not going to like any number of those changes.

For one thing, she would no longer be able to avoid hiring a true companion. Old Mrs. Mackey had that role in name only. Then again, her previous position as Elizabeth's governess had also been very much in name only. Elizabeth needed a real companion, not just someone who lived at Devonshire House. Propriety must be observed. The old cats would watch Elizabeth's every move. And new security would be needed. Elizabeth would not like that either.

But, mostly, she was not going to like what would happen when the ton found out she was the heir. She would be fawned over and she would be hunted.

**Devonshire House, April 11, 1812**

Norris opened the door for his master. The footmen removed the Duke's hat, gloves and coat. "Good evening, Your Grace."

"Is Miss Elizabeth here?"

"No, sir. She spends the night at Kent House."

"And Miss Jane?"

"Still in Hertfordshire, I believe. Mr. Blevins has had word from her."

Will nodded. It was late and he was tired. It had been a long day. "Please send Blevins to me. And see if Mrs. Hawkins can spare a little cold supper."

Will had turned to head for his study when Norris' voice called him back.

"Begging pardon, Your Grace. Young Higginbotham, from Higginbotham and Smith, has been here twice today. He understood that you were to travel to Derby tomorrow and he begs a private moment of your time."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, Your Grace. If you are at all able to see him, he asked that we send word. No matter the time."

"Very well. I will see him." _Our attorneys. Uncle Henry's, too._

Will poured himself a glass of wine and sat down behind his desk. He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his temples. The Crown had wanted his knowledge of Russia and her politics. Knowing that Will was leaving for Derbyshire, they had questioned him for most of two days.

Will knew that Blevins would have handled everything in his absence. There was a knock at the door.

"Come."

"Ah, Blevins. How do we stand?"

"I sent an express to the Archbishop. I told him you would not arrive until the evening of the fifteenth, but that the funeral and entombment would proceed on the sixteenth as planned. We should really not delay another day. As it is, I have taken the liberty of having Mr. Henry removed from Clapham Common this evening and prepared for his journey. The casket in the procession tomorrow will be empty. Mr. Henry will leave at dawn, on ice, for a faster trip."

Will nodded. It was well done by Blevins. Poor Uncle Henry would be too many days getting to his tomb as it was.

"You received the procession map I sent over today?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Yesterday the Regent had interrupted Will's meeting with the men from military intelligence. Prince George expressed all of Great Britain's condolences at the death of Uncle Henry. His Highness insisted on a great procession through London as the funeral party left for Derby. A notice of it was added to the papers for today and a map would appear in the morning. It meant nearly full loss of the first day of travel. They would not get much past London tomorrow.

"I expect, as it was with your father, that many carriages will fall in behind us as we make our way through town. I sent men ahead, armed with coin, to make sure the inns on our stops stay free for all the travelers. In the morning we will send wagons with extra supplies ahead of us along the route. That should ensure enough food and drink for all in the caravan."

"And Miss Jane?"

"I left her letter on your desk. One also arrived for Miss Elizabeth and I had it sent over to her. Miss Jane feels she must attend the Longbourn services. Gardiner and Philips are still handling those."

"And the body?"

"It cost more than we thought. Apparently the enthusiasm of the studiers of anatomy has placed a premium on unclaimed bodies. It is done, though. Cleaned, dressed with Mr. Henry's clothes and some personal items, and in its sealed coffin. We will put out that Mr. Henry Bennet took a long fall down a staircase when his heart failed. The coffin will remain closed."

"And Bennet's funeral is when?"

"The day after tomorrow. However, the reading of Henry Bennet's will is not set."

"Well, Higginbotham the younger is coming here tonight. Wants a private word with me. Let us decide how to handle that while he is here. Now, what else do I need to know?"

"Mr. Petrie is still missing."

Will raised his eyebrows in question. Blevins continued, "I thought he might have escaped with the silver, but it appears he is just on his annual holiday. When he had not been found yet this morning, I sent men, under your seal, to the banks. All the funds and the vaults appear intact. Now, he will not be able to get at any of it if he tries."

Will shook his head. "Petrie is, I believe, Henry's man through and through. I would be very surprised if he tries to steal. What have you found out about his holiday?"

"He seems to go every year, alone and for ten days. This time, no one knows where."

"You have someone watching his house?"

"Yes sir, and going through his papers."

"Good. What else?"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Will welcomed his supper. It was warm and looked wonderful. Mrs. Hawkins was a gem.

"A complete list of everyone we have notified is on your desk. Miss Elizabeth and Lady Hume-Campbell reviewed it earlier. Your sisters sent word that they would join the procession tomorrow."

Before Blevins could continue, a knock interrupted them again.

"Your Grace, Mr. Higginbotham is here."

Will looked longingly at his supper. "Send him in. Blevins, he asked for a private word. I will send for you when we discuss the Bennet will."

"Very good, Your Grace." With a bow, Blevins went out and Higginbotham came in.

"Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace."

Will nodded.

Clearing his throat, Higginbotham nervously started, "My father and I are privy to the contents of Mr. Henry Cavendish's will. He completely changed his will in 1796. Since then, Mr. Cavendish made only one change, back in 1798."

Will waited patiently for the man to get to his point.

""Your Grace, you are named as Guardian and Trustee. We felt you must know the contents before the reading. Given his situation, his wife and the number of children, the will is most odd. If you are not already aware, then you should be forewarned."

Again, Higginbotham paused. Will nodded for him to continue.

"Miss Elizabeth is so very young. Still, her father may have confided his reasoning to her. In case he did not, we felt it imperative that Mr. Petrie be present at the reading. Perhaps he understands. Sir, we cannot find Mr. Petrie."

After stopping for a breath, he went on. "I fear Miss Elizabeth to be in ignorance of all this. Here is a summary."

Higginbotham handed a paper to Will, who read it through. Will sat silently, deep in thought, for some time.

"I am afraid, Higginbotham, that it would be good to have Mr. Petrie. We must, at least, postpone any reading of the Bennet will at Longbourn. We have already put out that Miss Elizabeth is ill and not able to travel. That funeral will proceed without her.

"I want you to come up with something fine and legal sounding for a delay in reading that will. Make it really hold the force of law if you can. Maybe you can use Miss Elizabeth's purported illness. Something about all the heirs being present. I do not know. It is your field. Are you to travel to Chatsworth for the will reading?"

"No, Your Grace. My father will do that."

"Good. Get the delay in the Bennet will reading to Gardiner and Philips. They are in Meryton. They can let Collins and the women know. Make it strong. Gardiner will not be a problem, but I do not know much about Philips. He, too, is in the law. Better go yourself. We will have Blevins send someone with you, someone who looks persuasive, in case you need it. I want everything quiet on that front until we are ready to handle it."

Will pulled the bell cord and asked for Blevins.

"Oh, Higginbotham, what change did Uncle Henry make in 1798?"

"He put in the provision that Miss Jane cannot touch her funds until marriage or until age 30."

Will thought for a moment.

"I will send someone to you, very early tomorrow morning. I want copies of all the wills that Uncle Henry made. I want them with me before the funeral procession begins."

"They will be ready, Your Grace."

Blevins knocked and entered.

"Blevins. We do not need to worry about the Bennet will reading for now. Higginbotham here will come up with a reason for a delay. However, I need you to find a man or two to accompany him to Hertfordshire tomorrow. They should not need to do anything except be there and look intimidating. Also, send someone to Higginbotham's office early tomorrow to pick up a package for me."

Two hours later, Will was strolling up and down the family portrait gallery. It was his place to walk and think.

So, Lizzy's concerns about hedgerows were real. Uncle Henry had meant it to be carried out, too. There was no other conclusion. He had named the Duke of Devonshire as guardian. When the will was made, that was Will's father. His father would have made sure that no penny went anywhere other than where Uncle Henry intended. And then, just to close a possible loophole, Uncle Henry had gone back and put chains around Jane's money. Francis Bennet and those girls were to have truly meager funds and nothing else.

He was also sure Uncle Henry had intended Elizabeth to know the truth before he died. There was no conclusion other than that, either. He was giving Elizabeth complete freedom when she came of age. Why had not he told her? Was he waiting for her to be older? Had he left her a letter they had not found? Was Petrie supposed to tell her?

Wait. Maybe Will's father had known. Had he left Will instructions on the matter? Instructions Will had not seen? It did not seem likely. Were there notes in his journals?

Will would have to take the 1796 journals with him tomorrow. Maybe there was an answer there.

And why was such a paltry sum settled on Fanny? Will would have to remember to get a copy of the marriage settlement from Higginbotham.

And what had happened in 1796? Why was Uncle Henry so vicious with this? Part of it was as clear as could be. Those three younger girls could not belong to Henry. Still, there had to be something more. Uncle Henry was kind to stray cats. He would not throw a woman and three young girls out onto the street, no matter the woman's crimes. Especially not a woman for whom he was responsible.

But, Will had no sympathy for Mrs. Bennet. It was long ago and they had only been children, but Will remembered. It was right after Lizzy had returned from Hertfordshire. They were exploring the attics. Lizzy's sleeve had caught on a rough edge and had torn away. Will had seen all the bruises. Lizzy begged him not to tell. She said it was all her fault. She had disobeyed her mother. Will had instantly hated Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth, though, would be desperate for some understanding here. These were her sisters and her mother. And Will, hatred or not, did need to understand. He now stood, bound by duty, to honor Uncle Henry's wishes. It was all in Will's hands, at least until the end of the year.

**Kent House, April 11, 1812**

Elizabeth was so tired, but sleep would not come. She put her hand under her pillow and felt for her letter. She felt comforted when she held it, as though clutching it could somehow ease the pain she had inflicted on him.

How could she have been so vain and proud? How could she have let one comment color her whole picture of a man? The comment had not even been for her ears. Yes. He was arrogant, proud and sometimes rude. No. She did not regret her refusal. But, she, who prided herself on reading character, had painted him with the blackest possible brush. She had not done that with Lady Catherine. She had not done that with the old Duke. She had not done that with so many people. But, she had done it with Mr. Darcy. All because he wounded her pride. She was "not handsome enough to tempt him."

She should have forgiven or at least tried to understand. A wealthy man in a sea of strangers, all of them talking about his income. How often had Will spoken of being hunted? And poor Mr. Darcy, what if he had come to the country to escape his thoughts of Ramsgate? Cheerful Mr. Bingley had probably dragged him to that assembly. What had Mr. Darcy said? He could not converse easily with strangers? How miserable he must have been and Bingley had been pressing him to dance!

Aside from that one comment, what did she really have to hold against him? She had lately been much in his company. She had seen no evidence of harsh or dissolute behavior.

Honestly, she did not know this man at all. She had been cruel. Her own pained vanity had led her to crush and wound him, in an unforgivable manner. And. arrogant as he was, he had been right about the impropriety of her mother and her sisters.

Yet, he had still come to her in love. Yes, he thought his dignity would suffer with offering for a country miss with such a family. But he did come. He did offer. He must have been very much in love with her to overcome all his objections.

Even after her scathing rejection, he had ended his letter with 'God Bless You. '

She had treated his heart with contempt. She was ashamed.

**#########**

Please let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 2, Part 2

**Authors Notes**: Henry Cavendish was laid to rest in Derby, in All Hallows Church, also known as the Cathedral of All Saints and as Derby Cathedral, where Elizabeth Talbot had started a splendid family tomb.

More popularly know as Bess of Hardwick, Countess of Shrewsbury, she lived from around 1521 to 1608 and was a another fascinating creature. She was married four times, two of her Cavendish sons founded dukedoms and one of her grandchildren had a claim to the thrones of both Scotland and England.

While accurate information from so long ago is hard to come by, I am still putting Bess on my list of people to learn more about. There have to be several juicy stories here. For instance, the start of her second marriage, to Sir William Cavendish, is very interesting. She was reported to still be a virgin, her first marriage having been a childhood one and to a sickly young man who later died. Then, she married Cavendish, at the house of some friends named Grey. (Yes. Grey.) The marriage took place at two in the morning.4 I would love to know how that came about.

A BBC site has a nice little article about her.

.uk/derby/content/articles/2008/02/12/bess_

4. .org/wiki/Bess_of_Hardwick 

**Part 2, Chapter 2**

**Devonshire House, April 12, 1812**

William Cavendish opened his eyes suddenly. _Darcy! _Will quickly rose from the bed, pulled the bell cord, donned his dressing gown, and sat down at his desk to write a note.

The footman knocked and opened the door. "Your Grace?"

"James." Will finished his note, sanded and sealed it. "Here. Please take this to Darcy House. You are to wait for a reply. If the Master is not awake, beg their forgiveness, but ask them to wake him."

Alone again, Will looked at the clock. It was a little after seven. _Well, it cannot be helped_. Will pulled the cord for his own man to come and dress him.

He had worried in the night. If he could stay in London right now, he would go through Uncle Henry's and Petrie's papers himself. Will knew what he was looking for. He also knew that he might need to talk to Gardiner or Philips in person.

Blevins could have done it in Will's stead, but they needed Blevins in Derbyshire.

Someone clever and completely trustworthy was called for. The Duke's investigators were good, but this was personal. This was Elizabeth. The scandals needed to stay buried. Will needed someone who could keep their purpose confidential, make judgments and follow leads. One who had an air of authority if anyone baulked. Darcy was perfect.

**Darcy House, April 12, 1812**

Darcy was already up and dressed. He had sent a message back to Will, saying he would be at Devonshire House shortly.

Darcy looked down again, at the note he was still holding in his hand. He moaned. Will needed something urgently. This probably meant that Darcy would have to travel to Derby with them. _"I cannot. I cannot see her yet."_

There was no use in agonizing. He would set off to see Will and find out. Whatever happened, Darcy knew he would have to master it. He was due to pick up Georgiana this morning. He needed a calm face for that. Georgiana had enough troubles of her own.

**Devonshire House, April 12, 1812**

It was just after the hour of eight in the morning, but both men in the Duke of Devonshire's study were pristinely, elegantly dressed. Tired, drawn and pale, they were still things of beauty.

"Darcy, I cannot say how grateful I am that you could meet me now. But, you look ghastly. Are you ill?"

"No, Devonshire. I am well. Just too little sleep." _And what am I doing here?_

Will eyed his friend. "Then have more coffee. I have a great favor to ask and I need your brain awake and functioning."

Darcy raised his eyebrows and waited for Will.

"Uncle Henry."

"My condolences again."

"Yes, well. There is a great mystery and I have to leave shortly for Derby. You remember, I told you he had a family? Kept them in the country?"

Darcy nodded.

"There is a wife and five daughters."

_So I know._

"He was a private man. Not much for conversation outside of science. His man of business, a Mr. Petrie, is off on holiday. We cannot yet find him. He is the only one truly safe to ask about all this. The will is odd, to say the least. Uncle Henry gives one estate to some truly far flung relation called Collins. He gives only five thousand pounds to his wife and that he was required to do by the marriage settlement. Then, Uncle Henry leaves a fabulous dowry to my cousin Jane. But she cannot touch any part of it until she marries or reaches age thirty. Everything else, everything, goes to my cousin, Elizabeth."

Will paused and then continued, "Nothing, not a penny, to the other three daughters. Does not even leave a home for them or his wife."

"Capricious or a lack of further funds?"

The perfectly mannered Duke of Devonshire actually snorted. "Darcy, eccentric is a word for my uncle Henry, but not capricious. And as to lack of funds- Darcy, my cousin Elizabeth may now be the richest woman in England. She probably has more than the Queen. Four houses in town, eight estates, who knows how much in jewelry and art, and nearly six hundred thousand pounds in ready cash."

Darcy closed his eyes, taking in the new information. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked at Will. "You believe Miss Elizabeth knows little or nothing of this."

"Precisely. When the will is read, I cannot help her if I do not understand."

"You must realize they, the younger daughters, cannot be Henry's."

Will nodded. "I have thought it over, a good deal. However, Uncle Henry would not throw a stray cat into the street."

A wave of relief passed over Darcy. He would not have to go to Derby and face her. "You expect something darker still. You want me to find out for sure about the girls and whatever else is behind this. And no one can know what I am doing."

Darcy was quick. Will nearly smirked in satisfaction. "And, at best, I would like some kind of information in three days. That should leave enough time for an express to reach me before the reading of the will. But..."

"You expect a scandal and you do not want it revealed. I can do nothing to set if off."

"I knew I had called the right man. Will you try?"

Darcy sat for a while. "It is dangerous. With the funeral, Henry Cavendish will be on everyone's mind. And, are you burying Henry Bennet in Hertfordshire?"

Will's eyes snapped up. "You know that name?"

Darcy sighed. "I have met them all, except for your Uncle Henry. Bingley's rented estate shared a border with Longbourn. I was there."

"Splendid. I was planning to introduce you to Elizabeth. Thought you could be of help to her in estate management. The two of you have like minds when it comes to your dependents."

Darcy started at this comment, but ignored it and went on with what he knew must be said. "Devonshire, Will. If I help with this, she cannot know. I am the last man-" Darcy's voice broke a little and just for a moment. He stamped down on his emotion. "Will, she does not like me, even loathes me. She will not welcome any help from me."

Will was stunned. "Loathes you?"

"I am sorry Will. I cannot, will not talk about this now. Suffice it to say that my behavior in Hertfordshire was not welcoming."

Devonshire smiled. "You were your usual charming self in society. The formidable Darcy stare was in full use, eh?"

Darcy sat for a long moment. "I will help. I will do what I can. But you must not tell her that I have been involved. She cannot know."

Will looked at his friend. _I will know what went on. Did you insult Elizabeth? But now is not the time. _"Very well. I will not press you now. I am the beggar here. I accept your terms. Now to the particulars. Here is a letter, with my seal, allowing you access to whatever you want. There are two men, brothers to her mother, Gardiner and Philips. They both know who Uncle Henry really was..."

**Grosvenor Street, April 12, 1812**

Caroline Bingley watched the procession pass her window. She was furious. Charles was making almost no forays into society. Mr. Darcy had gone off to Rosings. Even before that, he had almost disappeared. All her plans had come to nothing.

_And now this! _She did not know what angered her more. First, her brother had forbidden any speaking of that little wench and the Duke. This was society and information was its food. She held the most delicious morsel and she was not allowed to use it. Caroline eyed the beautifully liveried riders and the long string of elegant carriages. Her knowledge would place her in the center of everything. This funeral would have the Cavendish family on everyone's tongue. Caroline imagined all those women, the cream of the high ton, flocking to her drawing room to hear, first hand, about the Duke's mistress. _Caroline Bingley, sought after, politely courted by all those who mattered._ And Charles had threatened her! She frowned. He was not himself. He was so cold. She was afraid. Somehow, this time, Caroline knew it was not an idle threat. He would carry it out.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she stamped her foot. There had to be a way.

She focused again on the procession. _That is the __Westmorland __carriage now! London will be empty. They are all going to the funeral! And I am forced to stay here! _

This was the other thing that had Caroline so angry. Charles had refused, point blank, to even consider going. He would not be moved and he would not discuss it. _And this could be THE event of the season!_

**The Streets of London, April 12, 1812**

Elizabeth sat back comfortably in her father's carriage. She could tell that both Aunt Amelia and Will were internally frowning when Elizabeth told them where she would ride today. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Thank heavens she had those two. Neither had pressed her to change her mind. With the addition of this procession to the trip, Elizabeth knew that they would spend three nights on the road instead of two. There would be plenty of time to ride with Will and Aunt Amelia.

Today, she just wanted to be alone with her father, following his coffin and in his carriage.

This coach had an added advantage. There was no coat of arms. Riddle had also seen to the addition of sheer black curtains. She even had non-liveried footmen. Together these gave her a sense of anonymity. Elizabeth raised her veil and laid it back over her hat. She did not need it. No one would approach the unknown coach. She had privacy.

Again, she smiled to herself. At least she had the closest thing possible to privacy under the circumstances. Elizabeth looked over at Mrs. Mackey and Nolet. Mrs. Mackey would be asleep in no time. Nolet's mind would be lost in planning Elizabeth's mourning clothes. Nicole Nolet never rode in a servants' carriage if she could avoid it and Elizabeth did not mind indulging her. Elizabeth felt sure the name was made up. Still, such a name did fit her abigail perfectly, French, arrogant and assured. After a few battles about simplicity and comfort, they had gotten along splendidly. Nolet loved to shop, had wonderful taste in fabrics, seemed to instinctively know the most flattering cuts for Elizabeth. She also understood that Elizabeth wanted functional clothing. All Elizabeth had to do was stand still for fittings. Rarely did she reject something Nolet had chosen.

Nolet was indeed lost in clothes. However, it was the after mourning clothing that presently held her mind. Nolet was sorry for Elizabeth's pain, but was still thrilled. In a year, she would be preparing Elizabeth for London. She would be old enough for a spectacular wardrobe. Nolet had been waiting for years to do Elizabeth for a season. But this would be so much better. Those whites and pastels of the debutants were not for Nolet's charge. The body, the face, the hair, the eyes and the way Elizabeth moved, they all cried out to be highlighted, accentuated, displayed. Rich tones, those were what her charge needed. Nolet was sure Elizabeth was an heiress now. Somewhere there had to be jewel vaults. Matching and contrasting those jewels with fabrics, and with Elizabeth's eyes and hair, was enough to make Nolet's heart race.

In the meantime, black did suit Elizabeth rather well.

**Longbourn, April 12, 1812**

Jane sat in the drawing room with her father's casket. The neighbors would be arriving soon. Mary and Aunt Gardiner would join her shortly. Mother would be keeping to her rooms with Kitty and Lydia.

Jane could understand how Kitty and Lydia would not want to be here. They were so young and they did not know their father. But her mother should be here. _Shame on me. She is upset. She has lost her husband. I know they were estranged, but I am sure she loved him. _

Jane grimaced. These days, there were far too many times when she had to chastise herself. _What is wrong with me?_

She felt so alone. _If only Elizabeth was here_. Jane's eyes went to the coffin, the one that did not hold her father. He had kept Elizabeth away from Longbourn most of the year. In life, Father had made Jane choose between Elizabeth and duty to their mother. _In death, you do the same._ _For goodness sake! How could I even think such a thing? What is wrong with me?_

**Clapham Common, April 12, 1812**

Darcy had been sitting in Petrie's office all that afternoon. He was somewhat successful in keeping his personal demons at bay and concentrating on task at hand.

Darcy ran his hand over the journal that sat on the desk. It was nothing more than a record of comings and goings, but those could be important when there was some thread to follow. Unfortunately, the pages for Petrie's time off said only 'holiday.' The investigators who were looking for Petrie had already seen all this. Darcy did not know what his eyes could add to it. _Riddle. _

Darcy rose and tracked the aging butler down.

"Mr. Riddle, could you spare me a few minutes?"

"Of course, sir."

When they were seated in the study, Darcy inquired, "Mr. Riddle, can you remember anything personal about Mr. Petrie that might help us?"

"I have tried, sir. The investigators asked, too. Mr. Petrie was a private man. I and my wife sir, we do not know where he went on holiday."

"Try to tell me anything personal, even if it does not seem important."

"Well, sir, I do not think he had any family. He worked hard, all the time. Here at sunrise, he was most days. Stayed until dark, sometimes after. He was not what you would call friendly, but he was not unfriendly, either. I would say he was devoted to the master. Never made any trouble excepting-"

"What, Mr. Riddle?"

"Well, it was not really trouble. It was just that he suffered from strong indigestion. My wife had a time making food that did not upset his stomach."

"Did he see a physician?"

Riddled nodded. "Said something about to my wife once. I think he saw him regular like. What was that name? I am sure I heard it."

Darcy had seen several names show up repeatedly in the journal. "Let me read off some of these names. Maybe one will ring a bell."

One name had been the physician. Rogers. Darcy had called in the investigators. By the following day, they had tracked Rogers down and now they had their first real idea about where Petrie might be. Rogers had known where Petrie went on all his holidays. He traveled to a different spa each time. He was searching for waters that would ease his stomach.

Darcy approved hiring more people. Men spread out through England to look for Mr. Petrie in all the spa towns.

**Meryton, April 12, 1812**

Philips' hand was still shaking as he brought the glass of brandy to his mouth. Even Higginbotham had seemed vaguely uncomfortable with those two hulking figures. They were not meant to make Higginbotham uncomfortable, though.

Philips knew why the two men were there. They were there for his benefit, a reminder from Petrie. It was odd, though. Philips would have expected Petrie to show up with the warning. He must be busy with the real funeral. _Not too busy to remind me. Very well, then. If straight forward payment is not to be had, I will make use of that fool Wickham. I will not be denied my share, not this time._

**Longbourn, April 12, 1812**

Edward Gardiner sat in the library, his hands folded over his waistcoat and his legs stretched out. _A reprieve._ Gardiner had not expected to have more time. He had expected the pertinent parts of the will to be read without Elizabeth there. _It must be worse than I imagined and someone else wants more time to think it over, too. Well, if someone else is worried about Fanny and the girls, that can only be good for me. I think._

Gardiner wished all this were happening at a more convenient time. He had three ships set to sail home when the dangers of spring storms were past. Three ships that needed to make it through war-torn waters. The risk was substantial, but so would be the rewards. Too bad all this was not taking place after his ships were safely in. As things stood now, if he lost one or more ships, he would need all his resources. It was not the right time to add a spendthrift family to his obligations.

**Clapham Common, April 14, 1812**

Darcy had been in this room for most of two days now. How he wished that he had been the first to go through Petrie's study, but the investigators had been there before him. A lifetime of accumulated paper is a formidable thing. A lifetime of accumulated paper, that has been carelessly rifled through, is a real mess.

He had many questions. A visit to Higginbotham and Smith was in order. He needed to read through the wills and the marriage settlement. A family bible would be nice, too. Darcy needed the exact dates of birth for the younger girls. He would send to Devonshire for those.

Darcy was aching to talk to Gardiner, Philips and the Longbourn servants. None of that could happen yet. It was too dangerous.

There had to be a set of letters to and from Longbourn. Darcy had not found them. He was sure that Petrie would have put a spy or two in that house. _I certainly would, especially to keep track of a woman such as Mrs. Bennet._

But for now, Darcy would work with what he had. He had suspicious one day travel back in 1793. That was around the right time for Mary Bennet to have been born. He would question Riddle. That man, it seemed, always accompanied Henry to Longbourn. Darcy also had a good feeling about Riddle. The man seemed tremendously loyal to Henry and Elizabeth. Talking to Riddle would be a safe thing to do.

"Mr. Riddle, thank you for helping me again. There was a day, in 1793, when you and Mr. Henry made a trip to Longbourn. From the journal entry, it looks like you went straight there and back. Was not that unusual? Was that the day Mary Bennet was born?"

Riddle had started to relax around Darcy. Now Riddle looked at Darcy with wary eyes.

"Mr. Riddle, please remember that I am here only because the Duke cannot be. He sent me. He is my old friend. No harm with come to Mr. Henry or Miss Elizabeth from anything you tell me. Whatever you say to me, it is for the Duke's ears only."

Finally Riddle nodded. He told Darcy about Mrs. Bennet's time coming early, how afraid they were of what they would find when they got to Longbourn and how, after seeing the baby, Mr. Henry had just climbed back into the carriage and ordered them back to London.

"Then, sir, we were not far along the road when Mr. Henry tapped on the roof to stop the carriage. We had barely gotten to a standstill when Mr. Henry was out the door. After a minute, I climbed out myself. He was there, on the side of the road, being ill into the bushes. When we did not return to Longbourn for the churching or the christening, I knew for sure. Miss Mary was not Mr. Henry's child. He had known it from the moment he saw how big and healthy she was."

"What happened after that Mr. Riddle?"

"Well it was funny, sir. For a while, Mr. Henry was all distracted. Then, everything suddenly returned to normal, like nothing had occurred. He even went to Longbourn as usual that September, had Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth spend time with him as normal. But,"

"But?"

"Well sir, he never once went to look at Miss Mary. Never held her at night like he had done with the first babies. As a matter of fact, sir, I do not believe he ever set foot in that main house again."

Darcy looked at the aged man. _Riddle is very tired._ It was late.

"Thank you, Mr. Riddle. We can talk more tomorrow. I need to get this to the Duke before the reading of the will. Please get some rest. And thank you, again. Remember, it is all to help Miss Elizabeth."

**All Hallows Church, April 15, 1812**

Elizabeth sat in the front pew, looking up at the casket. The church was dark, lit only by candles. _Well, Papa, here we are. I promise, I will guard your science. I will keep your library. It will stay there for all those who want to learn. I think we should publish your journals now. I know you were never interested in publishing, but you are not here anymore to share your knowledge. I will ask your friends at the Royal Society. What about your laboratories? I was thinking that we might find some promising young men, ones that don't have a place to work. They could use your laboratories. What do you think? We have those estates. I am sure we can find some income to take care of a few good men. Well, I guess I will find out soon what we have to work with. But, do not worry Papa, even if it is not much, I will find a way. We will take care of your legacy._

Will paced in the church vestibule. He had left a footman inside to guard Elizabeth, but he needed some room to move. Darcy's express had caught up with them on the road.

They had a lead on Petrie, but no results yet. Will knew that Darcy would get another express to him before the reading of the will, but there was no guarantee it would have any useful information. _I will speak to Lady Amabel. Even if she knows no more than I do, she will be a pillar to Elizabeth in all this. Good Lord, Uncle Henry, what kind of legacy is this? What sins of the father and mother have you left for Elizabeth to bear?_

**Street of Derby, April 16, 1812**

Elizabeth was on her way back to Cavendish House. The entombment would not take long and then society would descend upon them for the funeral breakfast. Elizabeth had been able to avoid everyone so far. It was easy during the trip to Derby. She was whisked from the carriage to private dining rooms for luncheons or her lodgings for the night. A veritable wall of footmen had given privacy to her each time.

No more. She needed to set her grief aside for now. All these people had come to honor her father. Elizabeth would do her duty this morning. It would not be for long, an hour, maybe two. Then she would be on the road to Chatsworth. Elizabeth squared her shoulders. It was finally time to meet the ton.

**Cavendish House, April 16, 1812**

"Have you met her yet?"

"Not what I would call pretty. Striking, I think, is a better word."

"Why is it that no one knows her? She is not a child."

"I hear she is not out."

"That is better for our girls. It is said she will have a fortune."

"I will make sure my son is introduced."

"Have you heard what her portion will be?"

"I do not think Henry Cavendish had any sons."

"Well, what do we know? Until a few days ago, we did not know about a daughter."

"I heard that old Cavendish was a miser. Lots of money and never spent any."

_"An introduction is not the problem. We must think of a way for James to see her during mourning. It will give him a head start, knowing her before she joins society."_

"The Duke does not stray far from her side."

"Lady Jersey says there is also a sister."

"Really? Older or younger?" _"Perhaps there are two chances at marriage here."_

Elizabeth was in a little bit of a daze. She wished she was thinking more clearly. It was a big surprise to find out how many of the older gentlemen claimed a prior acquaintance with her. Elizabeth should not have been shocked. She had, after all, shared a man's world growing up. These men floated in and out of the Royal Society, the British Museum, lecture halls, her father's laboratories, and the grounds at both Chatsworth and Hardwick Hall.

"Your Grace, Lady Amabel, Miss Cavendish." The booming and warm voice of Earl Fitzwilliam cut through the fog surrounding Elizabeth.

"Cousin," answered the Duke, leaning forward to place a kiss on the cheek of the countess. "Lord Fitzwilliam, Lady Fitzwilliam, Milton, Richard, allow me to introduce Henry's daughter, Miss Elizabeth Cavendish."

"Elizabeth, I am pleased to have you meet Lord William Fitzwilliam, Earl Fitzwilliam; Lady Charlotte Fitzwilliam, Countess Fitzwilliam; Lord Charles Fitzwilliam, Viscount Milton; and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."

Following bows and curtsies, the blushing Elizabeth stared at the floor for a moment before defiantly raising her head and briefly meeting the eyes of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her look was answered with a raised eyebrow, which very quickly disappeared.

There were murmured rounds of condolences and acknowledgements and then the Earl spoke. "Ah, Devonshire, you realize that Milton and I have met this young lady before. It was in your company, too. You both had, shall we say, a slightly odiferous addition to your wardrobes that day."

Milton, the Earl and the Duke all smiled. Elizabeth's hand quickly covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Your Lordship is all affability," answered Elizabeth, "to remember such a flattering day."

This earned chuckles from the Duke, the Earl and Milton.

"I am afraid I shall imitate Lady Catherine now," Colonel Fitzwilliam said. "I must have my share of the conversation. Who would care to elaborate?"

"My pleasure, brother," answered Milton. "Miss Cavendish must have been, what, nine, ten years old?" Elizabeth nodded. "The Duke, Father and I were on our way to the stables at Hardwick when these two rounded a corner in front of us. They were splattered, head to toe, with what turned out to be, I believe, manure."

There were more stifled chuckles. Elizabeth, with a perfectly serious and straight face, looked directly Charlotte Fitzwilliam.

"Men, Lady Fitzwilliam. You would think they would be more kind and understanding of the perils involved in the pursuit of science."

Now there was open laughter, earning the small group at great deal of interest from the rest of the room.

"Science, Miss Cavendish?" queried the Countess.

Will answered. "Indeed,, cousin. It was an experiment gone awry. We were attempting to gather the vapors. Those droppings seemed, at the time, to have such interesting ones. The field hands had been very helpful, gathering so much material for us. However, our equipment was not properly secured and fell some distance into the subject of the experiment. We were standing a bit too close at the time."

Elizabeth added. "So you see, Lady Fitzwilliam, I am afraid I made a rather poor first impression on the Earl and the Viscount."

"_No," _thought Earl Fitzwilliam. _"I was amazed at what you, a little girl, had been doing and I was impressed with your poise under such a circumstance. I cannot wait to see the woman you have become."_

Another set of gentlemen had gathered behind the group. Elizabeth noticed them.

"Mr. Davy," she exclaimed, reaching out both hands to the man. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. Davy released her hands, took one of her elbows and Hatchett took another. Nodding to the group they were leaving, the Royal Society men, as close to old and dear friends as Henry Cavendish had, led Elizabeth over to a settee. These men stood guard as Miss Elizabeth recovered herself. She was a daughter to them all.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked over at the distraught Miss Elizabeth. Now was not the time for inquiries. _Another day. We will talk another day, Miss Bennet._

The Fitzwilliams took their leave. Will looked up to see Spencer Perceval approaching, together with an unknown couple.

The tiny, pale man was speaking condolences and then he turned to his companions. "Your Highnesses, may I please introduce His Grace, William Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire. Your Grace, I am honored to present His Highness, Prince Khristofor Andreyevich Lieven and Her Royal Highness, Princess Lieven. Prince Lieven is our new ambassador from Russia."

The conversation was all polite and inconsequential, but Will's mind was racing_. "First military intelligence has at me and now this. What are you up to Perceval? Why did you bring the new Russian ambassador to my uncle's funeral? To meet me?"_

**Chatsworth, April 17, 1812**

Will, Amabel and Elizabeth were together in a small sitting room, along with Higginbotham the elder. It was time for the reading of the will.

"Miss Cavendish, there are a series of small bequests to family retainers, which we can go over at your leisure. Here is the heart of the matter." Higginbotham's still clear and strong voice read out the particulars.

"Frances Bennet, my wife, receives the sum of Five Thousand pounds, per our marriage settlement.

The Longbourn Estate, County Hertfordshire, excepting the personal property in my private house and stables, which remains part of the residual estate, goes to William James Collins.

Jane Francis Bennet Cavendish, my daughter, receives the sum of One Hundred Thousand pounds to be held in trust, untouched, until she marries or until she reaches the age of thirty. At either time, it and all accumulated earnings on it, shall be hers completely. The guardian for this trust is His Grace William Cavendish, The Duke of Devonshire.

Elizabeth Ann Bennet Cavendish, my daughter, receives the entire residual estate. It is to be held in trust for her until she reaches the age of majority, twenty one years. Everything in the estate is then completely, freely, absolutely hers. In the meantime, she is to be allowed generous access to funds. The guardian for this trust is His Grace William Cavendish, The Duke of Devonshire."

_Good Lord. My mother, my sisters. No home? Five thousand pounds? I must have misunderstood._


	12. Part 2, Chapter 3

**THERE IS A SLIGHTLY RACY PART IN THIS POST. IT IS A PARAGRAPH AT THE BEGINNING OF **'**Darcy House, April 17, 1812' AND IT IS IN ITALICS. IF IT IS TOO EXPLICIT FOR POSTING ON FFN, WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE LET ME KNOW RIGHT AWAY & I WILL IMMEDIATELY EDIT IT.**

THANK YOU!

**Author's Notes: **

**1) **Princess Dorothea Lieven was another fascinating character. At the time of our story, she was really still Countess de Lieven, not to become Princess until 1826. However, this is fiction, and I wanted her a princess already, so I took a little liberty. She became a major player in London society as well as politics. She was the first ever foreigner to join the ranks of the Patronesses of Almack's and she is the one who made the waltz acceptable in society. The Czar Alexander wrote of her "It is a pity Countess Lieven wears skirts. She would have made an excellent diplomat." 5

**2) **At this point in the story, I need to introduce a handsome young 'ner do well.' When I first went searching for him, I knew what I wanted. When he appears, he needs to be young, but old enough to have finished school and gotten into a certain amount of trouble. He would be a peer who does not come into his title until he wreaks some havoc in our tale.

I spent a good deal of time looking for him. After many hours of fruitless effort, I almost just made him up. Not liking defeat, I returned to my old friend, , and found an alphabetical list, by title, of 'earls and countesses.' Beginning with the A's, I methodically started through. It is a long list. Lucky for me, I found him close to the end of the B's.

He is Frederick William Hervey, who became the 5th Earl of Bristol in 1803. He was more than perfect. He finished Cambridge in 1788, had entered and left the military by 1792, and did not even know he would inherit at the time he enters our tale. He had an older brother who had not yet died. 6

Now, why does he rate this kind of introduction? Well, it is a small world. When I dug more into his background, he turned out to have an older sister whose maiden name was Elizabeth Hervey. 7

Yes. She is one and the same as the person we know better as Bess Foster. She was indeed the long time live-in mistress of the 5th Duke of Devonshire.

Like I said, it is a small world.

Don't tell anyone, but I almost went back to look for a different character. Well, everything about him was just right and it had been a long search. So, I kept him and wove the connection into our tangled web.

5. .org/wiki/Dorothea_Lieven

6. .105112

7. .14919

**Part 2 **

**Chapter 3**

**Chatsworth, April 17, 1812**

"I am sorry, Mr. Higginbotham. Did you just say that my mother is to receive five thousand pounds and three of my sisters nothing?"

Higginbotham's eyes shot over to the Duke and then back to Elizabeth. "Yes, mam. That is the situation."

"And they have been left no home. We have all those estates. Why do they not have a home?"

Higginbotham looked at Elizabeth. "Miss Cavendish, would you like to hear the details of what has been left to you?"

"You mean other than a homeless mother and homeless, penniless sisters? Will? Aunt Amelia?" Elizabeth looked from one to the other. "What is happening here?" Suddenly, she sat back stunned. Her life history was taking on new meaning. Father traveled with her and Jane, never the other three. She and Jane played at Father's Longbourn house, never the other three. He never went to the main house to see them, either. _Lord, why did I not think of it this way before? Because I was the favorite?_

Higginbotham started to speak. Elizabeth held up her palm to stop him. Will and Amabel had their eyes fixed on Elizabeth.

_Did Father even know what they looked like? Would he know those daughters if he passed them in the street? But that is it, is it not? Daughters. Those daughters. He always became upset when I tried to talk about them. He left them nothing. Cut them out completely. Mary, Kitty and Lydia are not his daughters. My mother had a lover. Oh, my poor Father._

Elizabeth looked over at Will. He saw the truth in her eyes. _She knows now_. "Mr. Higginbotham, please excuse us for a while. We will call you when you are needed."

Higginbotham almost said something, thought the better of it, stood, bowed and left them alone.

"Did you both know?"

Will answered as he and Amabel moved to flank Elizabeth. They each tried to reach for a hand, but she held them firmly clasped in her lap.

"Elizabeth, I only told Lady Amabel last night. I have known since the night before we left London. Higginbotham the younger was worried when we could not find Petrie. He came to tell me the provisions of the will. He did not want us all blindsided."

Elizabeth looked at her aunt. "I am right, am I not? You know what this has to mean."

"Yes, my dear. The three younger girls are your half sisters."

"Are we sure?"

Will nodded. "As sure as we can be so far. I started looking into it right away." Will told Elizabeth the story of Mary's birth.

"Elizabeth" said Aunt Amelia. "Are you educated about these things, conceiving a child and how long it takes for it to be born?"

Elizabeth did not answer right away. She was looking down at the floor, a blush on her cheeks. _Well, if there ever was a time not to be missish, it is now._

She looked at her aunt. "Yes. I know the facts, the science of mating, seed and gestation."

Will looked at her. "Lizzy, you would not forget what the babies who are born early look like?"

Indeed she never would. For the first time that day, she almost smiled. She remembered all the planning that had gone into getting access to the books they wanted. Both children had been curious. Exactly how did babies get deposited into animals and people? What went on inside a belly while they were growing? First, they had tried the Devonshire House library. There were always too many servants around. Elizabeth decided that they would move their search to the house that held her father's large collection of science books. An entire mansion, on Dean Street, had been made into a lending library for research. Surely what they wanted would be there. The trick, however, was to keep their companions from noticing the books they intended to read. So, they came up with a scheme. They spent three full days at Dean Street, wandering from room to room and reading all kinds of books. By the fourth day, Lizzy's maid, their tutors and the footmen were openly groaning when the party set out for the library again. Lizzy and Will were all sympathy for their beleaguered companions. "Why do not you relax in the parlor? No need to have to stay standing all day. Order a nice lunch from that pub over there." Will reached into his pocket and pulled out a generous number of coins. "Robert here will stand guard for us. No need for all of you to be so tired and bored." It worked. Yes, Robert nearly fainted when he saw the books they were pulling out, but Will and Robert understood each other. Will passed him extra coins and Robert rolled his eyes, but nodded yes.

Elizabeth remembered the drawings of the babies. There were lots of images of ones that had been born too early. Some were drawn next to a man's hand, or a tea cup or a ruler to show the small size. Some were deformed. She had been fascinated. Even the seven and eight month babies were so thin and little. The book told her that babies did most of their growing at the end.

Aunt Amabel looked at her. "Henry would have known if it was not possible for Mary to be his."

Elizabeth nodded. "And Kitty and Lydia?"

"I am looking into it. However, just from the will, we already know the answer."

"My sisters. We are all ruined when this comes out. None of them will marry. Maybe Jane will with such a fortune, but for the younger ones, nothing."

"Elizabeth, it has been a secret all these years. We will not let it out.

Higginbotham was pacing the small drawing room. Never had it taken so long for him to tell someone that they had a fortune. Heirs always listened, quietly hoping for more. And he never had someone not even ask what was in the residual estate.

Not this time! And now they had just sent word that Miss Cavendish was resting. Resting! He would never get back to London at this rate. _Patience, old man. She is your client now. A rich and powerful woman. If she wants to wait a week, then that is your job_.

A look that said "Well, any objections?" passed over his face. _None whatsoever. I wonder if a little food is available? _Pulling the bell cord, he politely made his request. Looking around the room, he picked up a book from a table, settled himself into a chair and began to read.

Elizabeth asked for William and Amabel about three hours later. They joined her in her sitting room.

"You realize that I will not put them on the street."

Will had steeled himself. He was ready for this. He, the guardian, was bound by duty to follow Henry's wishes. Those wishes could not be more clear. They did not include a home for the four women.

"Elizabeth, it is clear that Uncle Henry meant just what he said."

"And that is supposed to sway me? Father is dead. He left me nothing, no note, no letter, no knowledge. Did he really think I would turn them out?"

"No, Lizzy. You were a child then. He thought, he KNEW, the Duke of Devonshire, my father, WOULD turn them out."

Elizabeth sat down, stunned. Will was right. The old Duke would have done just that. Father would have known it.

"Lizzy, there has to be more we do not know. This action is unlike your father. We need to understand. Petrie may help, if he can be found. In the meantime, we must follow your father's wishes."

"Oh, no. I will not put Mrs. Bennet into her hedgerows."

"Lizzy."

"No."

"It is what the will directs us to do."

"No."

"Elizabeth, Will." Lady Amabel interrupted. "We must understand before we can act. Why do we not buy some time?"

The two stubborn Cavendishes, who had been about to engage in a heated round of "Will not. Will, too," looked over at Amabel. Both faces were confused and then they relaxed.

"Will, how much time do you need to investigate all this?"

"If we can talk to Petrie, probably no time at all. However, I begin to believe something has happened to the man. The news of Uncle Henry's death is all over England. If Petrie were able, I am sure he would have returned."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Petrie must be ill, hurt or worse. She had been so lost in her own grief that she had not properly thought about it.

"Will, you are searching for him?"

Will nodded and told Elizabeth everything that was being done. He was confident that they would find Petrie soon, but was not optimistic about the outcome.

"Back to buying time," he said. "What if we rent, for a while, an estate in the neighborhood? If Petrie cannot talk to us, it may take some digging to find what we need to know. We have to move cautiously to avoid scandal."

Amabel added, "Once we understand Henry's reasons, Elizabeth will still need some time to decided how to proceed."

_As will I. _Will decided to keep this thought to himself for now.

Elizabeth leaned back, lost in thought. _They have a year of mourning coming, if they observe it. Maybe we can accomplish more than just a roof over their heads._

"Aunt Amelia, Will. I want to use this to advantage. If we are changing Father's will anyway, let us add some provisions, like companions or school, to help my sisters. The younger girls need reining in."

She paused for a moment. "We may not need to rent an estate. Father had two more in Hertfordshire..."

The three talked through tea and until it was time to dress for dinner.

After dinner, Higginbotham finally got to tell Elizabeth how rich she really was.

**Darcy House, April 17, 1812**

_He came up behind her. gathered her long curls in his hand and laid them across her shoulder. He stood close enough to feel her heat. His breath was warm in her ear as he whispered what he was going to do to her. Darcy felt Elizabeth tremble as he reached around her and untied her soft, silk robe. He slid his hands under it, grazing across her skin as he pushed it off. He started at the first swell of her hips, slowly kissing and tasting his way up her bare back._

Darcy awoke. _No! _He closed his eyes, willing his dream to return. It was too late. He was alone.

Dejected, again, he rose and rang for his man.

Higginbotham and Smith finally sent over copies of the wills. However, there was no copy of the marriage settlement. The nervous young man who delivered the papers must have been new. He had looked around Darcy's study in wonder. When Darcy asked him a question, it looked like the poor lad was going to faint straight away. He finally managed to mumble, with awe, that he had heard tell the Duke of Devonshire personally brought Henry Cavendish to them. They had not been Mr. Henry's attorneys before that.

The firm had kept a copy of Henry's old will. It was made in 1788, around the time of Henry's marriage. When he finished reading it, the first thought Darcy had was that it was a good will. It made sound provisions for his widow, his future offspring, and disposition of his estate should they remain childless. Mrs. Bennet was generously provided for with Longbourn as her home for her lifetime and a fortune of at least fifty thousand pounds. It was to be a hundred thousand if there were few children for whom to provide.

Mrs. Bennet would have been a rich widow. Instead, she had no home and only five thousand pounds. That was still a substantial amount of money. Carefully handled, Mrs. Bennet could live comfortably, though not as she was used to.

Darcy spoke aloud to the empty room. "That is not the material point." No, what mattered was that Henry had left her the bare minimum he was legally required to do. _And nothing for those three girls. And he went straight to the powerful head of his family, the 5th Duke of Devonshire, to make sure his wishes were carried out._

_The old Duke must have known Henry's mind. Henry had turned to him in his time of trouble. Maybe Will is having some luck with the journals he took to Derbyshire_.

_Still, Henry Cavendish must have been something of a saint. He had not one, but three reasons to divorce Mrs. Bennet or to send her and her bastards off to the wilds of Scotland or Ireland. But he kept them, provided for them. I cannot see the man who did that being the same man who would leave them nothing. What am I missing?_

_Did he mean for Elizabeth to choose their fate? That would have been a monstrous responsibility to set on the shoulders of a child. That does not sound like the same man, either._

_What am I missing?_

_Well, there is still not enough information. Back to being methodical. Track down the old attorney. Finish the papers at Clapham Common. Search again at Petrie's home. Check the bank vaults. Interview Appleby as soon as he gets back from Derby. See if Gardiner has returned to London. Pray they find Petrie._

_Try not to worry, Elizabeth. We will find the answers and we will protect you._

**Chatsworth, April 18, 1812**

Devonshire crumpled Darcy's express. No real news. Darcy wanted exact birthdays for all the girls. Darcy had been trying to safely acquire some information about the births of the two younger girls. He felt some trusted servant in the Longbourn household might have answers, but it was too dangerous to try and find the right person. Darcy felt it was too dangerous to talk to anyone at all in Meryton. If they scratched at the wrong place, it would all ooze out. So far, he confined the serious inquiries to the Clapham Common servants. Riddle had been of the most use. In addition to the news about Mary, Riddle confirmed very unusual goings on at the time Mrs. Bennet was probably increasing with Kitty. Old Mr. Gardiner, whom the London household had never seen there before, had been in and out of Clapham Common a great deal, meeting with Mr. Petrie. Then, everything had settled down again. Mr. Henry had resumed his standard behavior. He stayed at Longbourn mid September until mid December. He also went to visit there, for a day or two, once or twice each month. Everything seemed just as it had been before.

The big upheaval had come close to two years later. Riddle had remembered August of 1796 as clear as a bell. An express arrived from Mr. Hill. Mrs. Bennet was about to give birth. None of them had known that she was increasing. Riddle had never seen Mr. Henry so furious. As soon as it was daylight, they had left for Longbourn. Under Mr. Henry's instructions, Riddle had gone into the house and brought Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth out to the carriage. Mr. Henry hugged them both and told them that they were going on a little trip. Before Riddle quite knew what was happening, they were all back on the road, headed to Lady Amabel's estate in Bedfordshire. The little darlings did not have a nurse or clothing or bonnets or anything.

Amabel had already told Will this part of the story. Henry and the girls stayed with her until nearly Christmas. Henry made a few short trips to London and then settled down at Wrest Park. Little Jane was very sweet, but wanted to visit her mother. Henry finally gave in and sent the girls to Longbourn for about a week. He had them picked up again at the new year and brought to Clapham Common.

A week or so later, Lady Amabel brought Her Grace, Will's mother, to Clapham Common to meet the girls. Will's life was to change forever.

He smiled to himself. His mother had been a force of nature. Amabel had told him the story and Will could see it all in his mind. Lady Georgina finding the two little girls, seeing the servants rooms they were staying in, looking around the laboratory pretending to be a house, and then giving orders. No one stood a chance. There was no debate. Those girls were coming home to Devonshire House.

Jane was an instant favorite with Will's sisters. Jane was the perfect little blond haired, blue-eyed Cavendish doll. They doted on her. The girls had much more fun dressing Jane than they ever had dressing up their dolls. Elizabeth they found amusing, especially the way she constantly escaped the governess and always had footmen searching the halls for her.

It was how Elizabeth found Will.

**Devonshire House, January 20, 1797**

Elizabeth stayed very still underneath the cabinet. Finally she heard the steps of the footmen fading away. She smiled. She wanted to explore this wing of the third floor. From what she had been overhearing, Little G's and Harryo's brother lived here. He was supposed to stay in his own household and not play with girls. Well, playing with girls wasn't very interesting for Elizabeth, either. Maybe she would find a new friend.

Quietly she slithered out and tiptoed to the door. Opening it slowly, she peeked up and down the hall. All clear. Then she heard it. Elizabeth was sure someone was crying. She crept down the hall and stopped in front of a door. The crying was coming from in here. Gently opening the door, she stepped into the room. A boy was sitting on the floor, in the corner of the room, his head on his knees and his arms around his legs.

Elizabeth walked over and sat down beside him. He startled, looked up and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Who are you?" he demanded in his most regal, almost seven year old tone.

"I am Elizabeth." She looked at him with her big, dark eyes. "I think I am your cousin and I think I live here now. I have cookies wrapped up in my pocket. Would you like one?"

**Chatsworth, April 19, 1812**

Elizabeth looked fondly at Mrs. Mackey filling a breakfast plate. Elizabeth would find a way for the woman to stay with her, if that is what Mackey wanted. In the meantime, Elizabeth had promised Aunt Amelia that there would be a real companion in Elizabeth's life now. _Well, I did not promise anything about who it would be. Let me set out for the cottages and see if I can have my choice._

She bid farewell to her fellow diners and went out walking across the estate. The cottage of Mrs. Ramya was not too far away.

Bess, the now Dowager Duchess, had brought her back from Italy. No one was supposed to know the details, but the servants here seemed to know everything. Devonshire's servants were extremely loyal, but that did not mean that they did not gossip among themselves. Little Elizabeth was always appearing in the kitchens, work rooms, attics, gardens and stables. Before many years passed, the servants had relaxed around her. This had given Elizabeth access to much gossip, too much really.

Mrs. Ramya had been the midwife when Bess, hidden away in Italy, delivered one of the Duke's bastards. Bess, no novice to childbirth, had been amazed at Ramya's knowledge, cleanliness and soothing herbs. Bess was also enticed by her exotic dress and manner, and decided to bring Ramya home with her.

When Bess tired of showing off her Indian novelty, they had deposited Ramya here, at Chatsworth. Elizabeth had found her long ago and loved spending time with the quiet, intelligent woman.

Elizabeth smiled as she approached the neatly kept little cottage. The front yard was already filled with newly growing herbs and flowers. She knocked gently on the door. Seeing who was there, the older woman pulled Elizabeth into a warm embrace.

"Oh, my child, how are you? How you must be suffering. Poor Mr. Henry. Come in. Come in. I will make us some soothing tea."

As Ramya swung her little iron kettle over the fire, Elizabeth looked around the room. This front room was more an apothecary's room than anything else. Crocks of Ramya's concoctions were on shelves lining most of the walls. Dried flowers and herbs hung everywhere. One corner was devoted to a kitchen and held a big, wooden table. The table saw more use for tonic making than it ever did for food. But the room that Elizabeth really loved was Ramya's small bedroom in the back. It was full of exotic colors and smells. It was a completely different world. It was a little piece of India.

As they settled at the table with their tea, Elizabeth said, "Mrs. Ramya, I have a proposition for you."

Ramya Sampath was the only child of her town's man of medicine. She learned much at her father's knee and grew up curious and content. That is until the stranger came to her father's shop. The way he looked at her disconcerted Ramya. A few days later, Ramya's father had spoken to her. He told her that he was an old man now and that Ramya, as a female, would not be able to keep the shop when he was gone. A man had come. He was an apothecary from a distant village. He would take over for Ramya's father and Ramya would become the man's wife. She had been dutiful and obeyed her father. Only a year later, Ramya's father died and she was left alone with her husband, Kuldip. He was a cold, cruel man. Kuldip never hit her, but she suffered under the blows of his words. She also had much to endure in the marriage bed, but, blessedly, there was never a child. Kuldip died suddenly, only three years into their marriage. Ramya felt an initial wave of relief. It transformed to horror when she realized what was to come. Kuldip's family was from a remote village. His family, like her husband had, kept strictly to the old ways. Ramya would be expected to throw herself onto this man's funeral pyre.

That same night, she gathered what money, valuables, seeds and clothing that she could comfortably carry and she fled.

It did not take Ramya long to accept Elizabeth's offer. The two women were already easy companions. They would learn much from each other. They were to start their journey together when Elizabeth returned in a fortnight. Their first adventure would be to investigate Elizabeth's northern most estate.

**Road to Longbourn, April 20, 1812**

Elizabeth journeyed toward Longbourn with a sense of doom. Poor, sweet Jane's world would crumble when she learned the truth about their mother. Elizabeth could see no way, practically or morally, not to tell Jane.

For herself, Elizabeth would confront Fanny Bennet.

_And my sisters. Father meant to prevent it, but can I still buy them a future? Not without their cooperation. _They were the true innocents in all this. Without help, help they would not want, what would happen to them? If the real state of affairs ever became known, it was dismal indeed. What could illegitimate children of a tradesman's daughter look forward to in society? They did not even have the benefits of being raised as a gentleman's daughters. Oh, the gentleman's estate had been their home. The gentleman's money had been at their disposal. But, the gentleman's influence on their lives was entirely missing. They had only the benefit of whatever proper behavior Elizabeth and Jane, children themselves, had been able to bestow. Elizabeth knew Mary, Kitty and Lydia regarded Elizabeth as an interloper, someone who came only once a year and then had the audacity to instruct the girls on proper comportment. Elizabeth was sure they loved her in some way, but, truly, only tolerated her as a visiting relation who brought presents. _And what more have I been?_ Jane, on the other hand, did have some influence within the household. However, her gentle and optimistic nature led Jane to find excuse for the girl's behavior. Worse yet, Jane did not to even see all the impropriety. It would never occur to Jane to actually try and correct them.

Mr. Darcy truly had the right of it here, _"the total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed..." _If he knew of all this, he would rejoice in his escape. How would such a proud, arrogant man ever have survived, tied to such ruin and disgrace? How would Jane and she survive all this? Not in terms of acceptance in society, they had fortunes and connections. Society may enjoy gossiping at their expense, but it would never shun Jane and her. _How are we go forward as human beings? Mrs. Bennet is our mother. Do we carry the seeds of such behavior in our blood? Am I, inside, the same wild wanton my mother must have been? Or am I again blind? Did my father abandon my mother? Did she fall truly in love with another man? Even so, what kind of a woman would cuckold her husband? And with three children? Was she so immoral that her vows meant nothing? Is that seed in me?_

When these musings were followed by other self castigations; her years of blindness to the real state of affairs at Longbourn; her past relief when she could leave the Bennets behind; her doubts about her father; and her own true vain nature, exposed in her cruelty to Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth's spirits were depressed as never before.

**St. James Square, April 20, 1812**

John Bellingham stood, concealed by bushes, and watched the house of the new Russian Ambassador. _They are royals. No doubt related to the same people who kept me in prison for all those years. _

He had lost his new job five days ago. When Mary found out, John was sure that she would leave him. He had tried so often to make Mary understand. These people were responsible for destroying Mary's life, too. They gave her those tired feet and her aching back. They gave her the life of wife to a prisoner and then a lowly clerk. They were why she was not wife to a wealthy merchant.

"Enough," she had said. "I grow old and worn. Look at my hands. My once beautiful hands. They are red and bleeding, destroyed, from taking in wash so we can eat! Forget the past. Work your job. Forget the past before it kills us both."

How could John forget? Every time he closed his eyes, that place came to him. He felt bile rising again in his throat. The stench of living with his own feces, the itch of creatures crawling on his scalp, the rats walking over him in the night, the oozing sores where the leg irons cut his skin. How could he forget?

And his own government ignored him! He had been doing a service to England when he exposed that fraud. Those foreigners had scuttled their ship and intended for Lloyd's to pay. Theft and fraud, that was what John had stopped. But his own government, his own people did not help him. They did not answer his pleas, not then and not now. They had left him to rot in a Russian prison and now they would not see his property restored. He had gone, just this morning, to try to see Perceval. Again, he was turned away.

Noise from approaching carriages called John back to ambassador's house. _That must be the Prince and Princess. Who is that getting out of the other carriage? Good Lord! It is Perceval! He has no time to see me but he pays court to those conniving Russian royals?_

John had seen more than enough. He turned and made his way over to the gunsmith on Skinner Street. There he used most of his remaining funds to buy two pistols.

**Darcy House, April 22, 1812**

His cousin Richard had arrived a few minutes ago and was now helping himself to a snifter of fine French brandy.

Georgiana had traveled north with the Fitzwilliams. While she did not feel comfortable attending the Cavendish funeral, she wanted to go along and meet the Viscount's new heir, little William Charles, who had been born in January. The good Colonel had seen her comfortably situated at Wentworth House before he returned to London.

Darcy eyed his cousin's back. He had been expecting this interview.

Richard took a healthy sip of his brandy. "Well, Darcy. Imagine my surprise when I was introduced to Miss Elizabeth Cavendish."

Darcy was saved by a knock at the door. Bingley had arrived.

Bingley joined the other two men. He seemed in better spirits than he had been in ages. He planning a trip north, in a little less than a month. Bingley wanted to visit a mine he owned part of. He had come to talk Darcy into accompanying him.

"You know, Bingley, the Earl has been buying mines," the Colonel's voice rang in. "When are you going? A little after middle May? I may be able to get away, too. I am curious as to what is up with all this mining business. Perhaps we can pass a night or two at Wentworth. I can introduce you both to my new nephew and we can see Georgiana."

_Devonshire will want the investigation completely back in his hands by then. Perhaps, with my new information, the mysteries may soon be solved. At any rate, Elizabeth can never know I was part of this. Perhaps it is better that I plan to leave London. _"It sounds like an excellent trip, Bingley."

The three men planned for a while. Then the Colonel left them, claiming an urgent appointment with some fellow officers at a pub.

As soon as Richard was gone, Bingley saw a change come over Darcy. He suddenly stood up and began to pace in an agitated manner. He looked at Bingley as though to speak and then turned and walked to the window. Bingley stayed still, waiting for Darcy to say whatever was on his mind.

After several minutes, Darcy turned and came forward, still disturbed.

"Bingley, I owe you a great confession."

**Devonshire House, April 24, 1812**

_Perceval. _Will had only arrived home last night and the man had shown up early this morning. _Well, at least I now know what they want_. Napoleon was massing his forces. Military intelligence was sure he would invade Russia. When he did, Perceval saw it as the one great chance to form an epic alliance. Russia would finally be persuaded. Together, Britain, Prussia, Austria and Russia would be able to squash little Frenchman once and for all.

Will now had a job for the crown. He was to bring all the ambassadors into his sphere and begin to quietly lay the groundwork, to set the stage for a future alliance to be brokered.

There was a knock on his study door.

"Come."

"Your Grace, Mr. Darcy is here."

"Send him in."

After greetings, Darcy went straight to the heart of matters. "Will, I have seen the marriage settlement. We may know what Henry intended. And, Will, Petrie is dead."

**Longbourn, April 24, 1812**

Higginbotham the elder was speaking. Elizabeth eyed him carefully. He had better do this the way he had been instructed.

"There are some small bequests to family retainers. Here is the heart of the matter."

"The Longbourn Estate, County Hertfordshire, excepting the personal property in my private house and stables, which remains part of the residual estate, goes to William James Collins.

Frances Bennet, my wife, receives the sum of Five Thousand pounds, per our marriage settlement. However, on the condition that she agrees to the live-in companions arranged for her during this mourning period, she shall have a property rented for her for a period of one year after my death. The firm of Higginbotham and Smith shall handle this.

Jane Francis Bennet, my daughter, receives a dowry, details of which are to be read to her privately.

Elizabeth Ann Bennet, my daughter, receives the residual estate, details of which are to be read to her privately.

Fanny blurted out "No! Nothing for Mary even? But he did not know."

Luckily for them all, Mr. Collins was lost in thought. He was looking around the drawing room, eyes of ownership taking in every handsome detail.

"Mr. Collins, Mr. Collins." Uncle Gardiner's voice managed to bring Collins back to the room. "If you would please excuse us, sir, there are private matters to go over with Mrs. Bennet."

A confused Mr. Collins allowed himself to be led from the room and the door was closed behind him.

Elizabeth rounded on her mother. "Not even Mary?" Collecting herself, Elizabeth asked everyone to leave her and Jane alone with their mother. Jane looked like she wanted to bolt, but a stern look from Elizabeth held Jane to her seat. She had not believed Elizabeth, thought such treachery was impossible, especially in her beloved mother. Jane would be made to face the truth.

"You are alone with two of your daughters now, madam. Please explain what Father did not know about Mary."

"Nothing, nothing. How could he be so cruel? Leaving nothing for three daughters. And for me, a home for one year? This is all your fault, you ungrateful little wretch. You turned him against me. Oh, Jane, where are my salts? I feel faint."

Dutiful Jane had immediately jumped up to go and retrieve Mrs. Bennet's smelling salts.

"No. No salts. Jane will stay here and you will talk to us. And no talk of me." Elizabeth's tone let them know that she would brook no contradiction. Jane sat back down.

Fanny looked around the room, liked a trapped animal searching for escape. She found herself looking into Elizabeth's eyes. "You know?"

"Yes, madam. I know that Mary, Kitty and Lydia are not Father's children."

"Oh," moaned Fanny, bending over and wrapping her arms around herself. "Oh no."

Jane came over and sat beside her mother, gently rubbing her back. "It is alright, Mama. Everything will be alright. Shush now. Easy."

Fanny stopped moaning and looked up slowly. The face of a frightened child looked up into Jane's calm one.

"It is alright, Mama. Tell us. Tell us about Mary. You thought Father did not know?"

Finally Mrs. Bennet nodded. Her eyes never left Jane's. "Oh, Jane. Mary came a little early, but not too awfully much. I thought he did not notice. He never said a word. Never wrote a note. Never sent that awful Mr. Petrie about it. I thought he never knew. And, it was not my fault, that one. It was not my fault. Really it was not."

"Tell me what happened, Mama."

Finally Fanny began. "The fall before Mary came, there was a big Harvest Festival in Meryton. Middle of October, I think. It was so much fun. There were games and dancing. Everything went on into the night. Sissy and I thought it would be funny to drink the men's punch, so we did. I found myself in a darkened alley with Sir William. Of course, he wasn't Sir William then. He was so young and handsome. Suddenly we started.."

Fanny looked down for a moment. Jane's gentle voice bade her continue.

"We started, well, what husbands and wives do. I hoped, the next day, that it had all been a dream. But all the signs were there. It had been real."

Fanny was crying and said no more for a moment. Jane looked up at Elizabeth. Jane's eyes were filled with compassion that turned to horror as her mind processed what she had heard.

Then, Fanny, head still down, spoke again. "My courses did not come, but sometimes they do not. Henry was here, at Longbourn, but he did not come to me. Every day that he did not come, I grew more worried. If there was a child, he would know it was not his. I sent him notes, but he still did not come. Finally, in December, he came. If he truly knew about Mary, I guess that he came too late."

Any compassion that had be tugging at Elizabeth flew out the window. Fanny was Fanny. She was only sorry that she had not been successful in covering it up.

"No one else ever found out, Mama?"

"Oh, no. Even the servants did not know. I had told my maid not to wait up that night. When I woke up the next morning, I fixed the rooms so it looked like Henry had been there. I never told a soul anything about it. Sir William never said a word."

"Mama," Jane, fighting down her bile, made her voice as gentle as she could, "What about Kitty?'

Fanny Bennet looked off toward the window. A soft glow seemed to fall over her. It was as if years washed away. Her shining eyes were seeing something in the past. "My beautiful Freddy." she whispered.

Jane could take no more. She fled the room.

**February 12, 1794**

Frederick William Hervey, youngest son of the Earl of Bristol, had been banished to this backwater Cavendish estate. _Bess probably told Father about this place. As if she should cast any stones. So I did not want to stay in the army. So I gambled a little. And that upstairs maid was just a servant!_

Freddy looked around the drawing room. _Well, I suppose it is at least a pleasant house. I wonder how long I will be stuck here._

The neighborhood gentlemen had been calling all morning. Freddy had been invited to join a local assembly tonight. _Why not? Maybe I will find a diversion. I need something to fill up my days._

She was perfect. Freddy had noticed her right away. She was just the kind of woman that he craved; blond, buxom and not too bright. He loved the way her dugs were pushed up. _I adore these latest fashions._ She grew even more interesting as the evening wore on. Her name was Fanny and she was married to some ancient recluse who spent most of the year somewhere else. Fanny looked young, too. Certainly she was less than twenty five. _I wonder if she has ever been touched by a young man's hands. Has she ever reached her own pleasure? I will wager she could really be wild._

Freddy could almost feel the heat of her blush whenever she glanced at him. _Perhaps banishment to Netherfield will not be so bad after all. Still, I will be careful and very discreet. If I get into more trouble, the Earl may carry out his threat. _Being sent away from London for a while was one thing. Having one's allowance cut off would be quite another. Freddy was careful not to pay any attention to Fanny for the rest of the evening.


	13. Part 2, Chapter 4

_**Author's Notes: **__There are many Darcys in the peerages. However, for our Fitzwilliam's ancestor, we need a really ancient pedigree and an explanation of why the Darcy family would hold no title. I already knew who I wanted, Lord Darcy of the Pilgrimage of Grace fame. All I had to do was dig up the particulars. _

_Lord Thomas Darcy, 1st Baron Darcy de Darcy, nee 9th Baron Darcy de Knayth, was born circa 1467. He was descended from a man named Norman de Areci, who was in England and a feudal lord in 1115.__8__ This family of Darcys fought along side English kings at least through Henry VIII. The first de Areci must have come over with William the Conqueror. The Domesday Book shows that Norman de Areci was gifted thirty lordships in one county by the Conqueror. __9__ The family name eventually became d'Arcy and finally, Darcy. My best research shows that the family name went from de Areci directly to d'Arcy, not d'Arci as the Wikipedia source below claims. I could always be wrong._

_The King's men in those days mustered and commanded armies for the crown. Thomas Darcy fought many battles, on home and foreign soils, for both King Henry VII and King Henry VIII._

_Darcy became such a power in the north of England that only the Earl of Northumberland held more land or sway. __9_

_We could say that Darcy met his downfall in Anne Boleyn. Of course, to marry Anne, Henry VIII needed to divorce Catherine of Aragon, a problem which had great repercussions. Early on, Thomas Darcy was apparently loyal to both his King and his God. He urged Pope Clement VII to grant King Henry his divorce._

_Lord Darcy first incurred the King's wrath when he publicly stated that the ecclesiastical courts should decide the matter. King Henry did not want to give church courts power over him. He was the King, chosen by God to rule. The Papist church in England was about to be destroyed._

_The devout northern populace was moved to protest when Henry VIII began dissolving their monasteries. They peacefully marched toward London. They wanted to convince the King to relent. This march was the famous Pilgrimage of Grace. _

_They were stopped from proceeding south when they reached Pontefract Castle. The castle was commanded by our Lord Thomas Darcy._

_This deeply religious man really held the same views as the protestors. Finally, he falsely claimed dwindling supplies, opened the castle gates and let the marchers pass._

_Henry VIII was furious and had Lord Thomas Darcy beheaded on June 30, 1537. Henry put Darcy's head up on the London Bridge. All of his honours were forfeited. __10 From here on out, we let fiction take over.  
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_Most of the above information comes from:_

_8. thepeerage . com _

_9. .org/wiki/Thomas_Darcy,_1st_Baron_Darcy_de_Darcy_

_10. thepeerage . com_

_**Part 2 **_

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Darcy House, April 22, 1812**_

_Bingley sat silently while Darcy confessed his interference in Bingley's life. Charles was already on edge with his friend. Darcy had tried to convince Charles, for months it seemed, that Jane Bennet did not care for him. Some part of him could feel the friendship and caring in Darcy's actions, hear it in the words he was now speaking. But most of Bingley was fuming. This was the man he trusted. This was his closest friend. And here, Darcy had been so wrong. Bingley knew Jane had loved him. _

_The ugly truths of station were overwhelming, had been dominating for so long, the true spirit of Charles Bingley. He was lost in it. I have never been Darcy's equal. Why does he keep me around?_ Social position. Suddenly, all his views of Darcy were colored by it. All their long history together, all they had shared, disappeared into the vortex of Bingley's loss and pain.

Darcy was now telling Charles about the real connections of Jane, about how wrong Darcy had been to interfere, about how he was wrong when he thought Jane unattached.

_Is it that he now knows she is a Cavendish? Is that what changed the way he sees her?_

Now Darcy was confessing to pure deceit. Miss Bennet had been in London! Darcy had conspired with Caroline to keep that information from him. _What do they think I am, a child? How could a friend act this way? _

As Darcy finished speaking, begging for Bingley's forgiveness, Charles could no longer hold in the insult or the anger.

Bingley's voice was deceptively calm as he began. "So, the Bennets are worthy of your notice now that they are Cavendishes? There are many things I do not understand, sir. Your pride of station seems a bit confused. Before you knew their connections, how did you think them below lowly me? Jane was, even as we first knew her, a gentleman's daughter. As such, she ranked above me in every way!"

Darcy was about to say something, but Bingley stopped him.

"And speaking of being above someone, how is it that you befriended me? I am a tradesman's son. Why did you ever stoop to honor me in such a way? Was it because Devonshire introduced us? Did having a future Duke as a friend give me enough status for you to condescend to speak?

"Bingley!"

"No. I will have my say. In your arrogance, your pride of station, how blind you are!"

Darcy was too shocked to move or speak.

"Jane loved me! She told me! And your big confession about who they really are! I have known the truth since the night of the Netherfield ball! Do you know when I realized that my love was doomed? That night! You did the honor of informing me! After Jane told me all, my first reaction was that Dukes would never accept me as her husband. But, I had some hope. Will was my friend. You were my friend. I looked around the room. I was looking for you. Some hope for my love. What did I find? Oh, I found you. Your proud, arrogant face was surveying Meryton society. You were repulsed! It was as if you stood in a room with something smelly. You could not hide, did not even try to hide, your disdain. I knew in that moment how my suit for Jane Cavendish would be received!"

Bingley, face red and breath coming hard, paused only a moment. "And now, tonight, you have shown me just where I rank in your estimation. Why did you not just ask me about Jane? Why did you instead just tell me your opinions? Do you know how much I needed to discuss this with my friend? Why did you take it upon yourself to play God? Do you truly think so little of me? Wait, I forgot, of course you do. I am a tradesman's son. This was all cruelly done of you, Darcy. You brought me into a society where I will never belong and now you have treated me like the lesser person you believe me to be. What did you have in mind from the start? Where was I to fit in amongst your kind? Did that even matter? Ah, yes. But, I added gaiety, did I not? I could make the men relax. I could dance with all the ladies, be charming and make them smile. What a lovely time we all had. That is, as long as I remembered my place. Then I had to fall in love with one of your own. Now the cards are on the table. Well, do not worry. I will not hold you to your pretensions of friendship, Mr. Darcy, even if a future Duke did introduce us.

Bingley turned and left the room. Darcy stood stunned for a moment and then followed after him.

"Bingley. Bingley!"

Charles did not turn around. He went straight out the front door.

_No! No! _Darcy had somehow made it back to his study and collapsed into a chair. _No! It was not true. I do value Bingley. I hold his friendship dear! What he said, it is not true!_

And it wasn't. What had drawn Darcy to the man was Bingley's lack of pretense, his honest and open nature, his goodness, and most of all, the pure joy of living that shone from him. In Bingley's company, Darcy could once again enjoy a morning ride across the countryside, watch with awe a display of fireworks, feel the depth of a hymn in church, relish the taste of a fine port. Bingley had pulled at, drawn out, the man buried inside Darcy, not the Master of Pemberley, the latest in a long line of powerful men standing on the face of England, but Fitzwilliam Darcy, flesh and blood man.

Darcy realized that only in Bingley's company did he feel the kind of peace he enjoyed at Pemberley. _I am a different man at Pemberley, among those I grew up with. I am still a master, yes. But real. A part of the circle of life of the place. _

_Is Bingley partly right? Have I been cruel? How did I come to put the counsel of such a vile creature as Caroline Bingley above just talking to my friend? Why did I talk at him instead of encouraging him to speak his heart? Am I so arrogant and self righteous? What has happened to me? When did I start to treat those socially beneath me with contempt? But, I have never, never thought of Charles as beneath me!_

His mind spoke back to him. _But have you treated him that way? You have treated others that way._

Scenes began to flash through Darcy's mind. He saw his introduction to Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, at that first Meryton assembly. He had walked away while she was speaking. A rude, contemptuous act on his part. It would bear no other interpretation. He could instantly see the contrast between his behavior there and the way he had treated Lady Houghton and her daughters at the Earl's ball. Mrs. Bennet had been no more loud or conniving than the Viscountess. Yet, Mrs. Bennet he had cut. Lady Houghton he had received with all civility.

And the gentlemen in Meryton! He gave more attention to the most ridiculous, prattling peer at White's than he had to those honest, country men. Meryton was not so different from Lambton. _Why am I a man in one place and an arrogant aristocrat in another? Elizabeth was right! No wonder she called me on my disdain! _

"Elizabeth," he moaned. Again, scenes crashed through his brain. He saw her entering the library at Netherfield. He saw himself not even rising from his chair to greet her, not acknowledging her presence at all. At the time, he had been so pleased with himself. He thought he was putting paid to any pretensions she might have because of his previous notice. _My notice! Ha!_

There could be no doubt. Elizabeth might be misinformed about some things, but she had been just in her condemnation. Why he treated the vicious, scheming Caroline Bingley with more civility than he had shown to the worthy woman Elizabeth.

_Worthy woman. Bingley, you are wrong again. I do not think those Bennet sisters worthy because they are really Cavendishes. Jane is worthy as the gentle, kind creature she is. And Elizabeth is worthy because she is joyful, caring, intelligent, witty, strong. She is so like you Bingley. Not in personality, but in fundamentals. You are both honest, good and so alive!_

_That is what I was chasing, all those months in London! I could not have her. She would have given me life! I wanted any piece of her. I even chased her aliveness in that most fundamental of ways, in the flesh. But, of course it did not help. It was not her flesh. _

Darcy was once again thankful for the Widow Hamilton. She had shocked him out of his mad quest, had brought his frenzy to an abrupt halt. When the widow had patted him on his bottom and pushed him out the door, he had been stunned. He was affronted and he felt dirty, treated like some kind of male consort. It took some time for him to see the justice and irony in it all. He had been using Lady Hamilton in some futile effort to capture a small piece of Elizabeth. Well, Lady Hamilton had been using him, too. Using and being used were ugly things. That realization had quieted his frenzy, let him gain enough calm to make peace with the ghost of Elizabeth that stayed with him.

_And, still I learned nothing! I acted with all possible arrogance when I made that insulting proposal at Rosings!_

It then came to him that is someway, Bingley was right. Darcy had internalized his arrogance, his pride of place. Once he had found out that Elizabeth was a Cavendish, things HAD changed. _Why? Elizabeth was the same woman. My attitude changed because my pride was appeased! Even if she was still lost to me, I could be at peace with loving her! No more uneasy truce with her ghost. _Darcy was realizing that after he knew her station, he had welcomed her in his mind. He walked with her, talked with her and loved her without his previous guilt. _Why you arrogant man. You are even less worthy of her than you were before!_

_Where is the man I used to be? The man I was raised to be? The one who was a worthy man. _

It did not occur to Darcy to give himself any quarter for the burdens placed on him so early, for his shy nature, for the necessity of avoiding all society's hunters.

But it did occur to Darcy to strive to return to the man he knew was inside him. He could become an honorable man again. He had been given good principles. He would follow them. He might become worthy of the friendship of Bingley. And, perhaps, he might be worthy to at least speak to Elizabeth.

He would start now. He had a letter to write. A true friend of his heart would not be left thinking anything except how much Darcy valued him and how highly the man sat in Darcy's estimation. His confession this evening was nothing to the confessions he would now make. _I hope Bingley forgives me._

When Darcy finished his missive, he sanded and sealed it and rang for a footman.

"Robert. Take this to Charles Bingley. Deliver it only into his own hands. If you need to, wait all night for him to receive you."

**Darcy House, April 23, 1812**

"Sir, Mr. Bingley is here to see you."

Darcy rose with alacrity, came around his desk and stood frozen, wondering what was about to happen.

Bingley walked in, a small smile on his face, and extended his right hand.

Darcy breathed out a long sigh of relief and firmly clasped Bingley's hand. The two men looked at each other for a moment. Darcy's face broke into a broad smile and Bingley followed suit.

In the way of men, all was forgiven. No talking was necessary. They were closer friends than ever before.

"Now I require some penance."

Darcy froze, every fiber on alert, but Bingley's smile let him know it was a tease.

"Get rid of that look of worry. It is nothing that you have not done before. I need to give a little bone to Caroline and Louisa, something to reward them for keeping quiet for once."

Bingley went on to explain the gossip that his sisters had wanted to spread.

Darcy fumed. _How dare they try to degrade Elizabeth!_

"Darcy, you look as furious as I was. Relax. They are actually behaving."

Darcy bit back his anger. Now was not the time for it. He still looked skeptical, but nodded.

"Now, I want us to take them to an event of the first circles."

Darcy moaned, but Charles ignored him.

"Something to placate them. What invitations do you have and when can you go?"

Darcy's brow furrowed and he gave an imperious stare to Bingley, who only laughed.

"Perhaps we should go back to fighting, Bingley. Anything is better than this."

Sighing, Darcy reached for the stack of invitations on his desk. He handed half of them to the still laughing Bingley. The two men began to look through them, searching for just the right one.

**Longbourn, April 24, 1812**

Gardiner walked out Longbourn's front door. He would stretch his legs while Elizabeth and Jane talked to Fanny. In a moment, he found Higginbotham beside him. The older man unobtrusively steered Gardiner to a secluded area behind some bushes.

"Mr. Gardiner, forgive my imposing on you this way. However, I was instructed to deliver a letter to you, privately. As soon as Henry Bennet's will was read, I was to personally see it into your hands." Higginbotham reached into his jacket and extracted the letter. Giving it to Gardiner, he left with a bow.

Edward turned the letter over in his hands. It was heavy paper, slightly aged, and bore a flat wax seal. No crest. With foreboding, he opened it.

_Mr. Edward Gardiner,_

_I have seen to your receipt of this missive in case your father was never brave enough to tell you the truth. You are now head of the Gardiner family. The fate of Fanny Gardiner and her bastards is back where it should have been years ago, in your hands. _

_If Henry had followed my counsel, they would have been your responsibility all along. I urged Henry to divorce the woman and to sue for return of the settlement. That, sir, would have seen you out of Cambridge. It would have seen you stripped of the funds that bought your ships, built your warehouses, purchased your cargos and paid your tailor. Believe me, no court would have denied his claim. _

_Yes, Mr. Gardiner. Your father diverted Fanny's marriage settlement over to you. Everything, every penny you ever had, you owe to your sister and to Henry's misguided gratitude to her. _

_The subsequent maneuvering of your father and perfidy of your brother Philips add even more disgust. Would that Henry had come to me sooner!_

_Now, sir, you will see to it that the truth stays covered. You will leave Henry Bennet buried in Hertfordshire and forget that a man with another name ever set foot there. You will see to it that no scandal arises. You will control your brother Philips. You will care for Mrs. Bennet and those girls in such a way that they will not importune Jane and Elizabeth. Henry has left Jane and Elizabeth in strong positions. Mrs. Bennet cannot really harm them now. However, I will I not have them believing that they should provide for her. _

_You may, if you wish, make yourself seem magnanimous. Make yourself the hero, supporting your widowed sister and her children. I care not._

_Your father swore the Gardiners would bear the burden of Fanny's sins. You will honor that. If you behave in any other fashion, I will have justice for all Henry's suffering. I have made arrangements so that even if I am dead, I can reach out from my grave and exact revenge on you and your own. Make no mistake, I will ruin you._

Edward shuddered. Then he read the unsigned letter through again, closed his eyes for a moment and then read it a third time. Every penny. Edward had known that he was in part indebted to Henry, but not to this extent. He had also known of Fanny's betrayals. His father had wanted Edward's help in keeping Fanny under control.

Edward felt all the justice in laying Fanny's care on his shoulders. He wondered which of Henry's powerful relatives had written the letter. Probably the old Duke, but it mattered not. Edward realized that he had known all along they would be his responsibility. But to keep away scandal, to control Fanny and the younger girls, to keep them ignorant of Jane's and Elizabeth's situations, those things were going to be difficult. _And what has Philips done?_

Well, he had best go find Higginbotham. Ask about these companions mentioned in the will. Ask about the place to be rented for a year. Maybe they could settle Fanny and the younger girls into a more permanent house from the start. Then he smiled to himself. _Maybe we can send Lydia to a convent._

**Devonshire House, April 24, 1812**

"What have you learned?" Will asked as they had settled into the study.

"Petrie was found dead in some woods about four miles from where he had eaten a meal. He was on his way to Tunbridge Wells. When no one came for him, the good people in the local town buried him. Our investigator talked to the apothecary who had looked him over. Petrie had been robbed and beaten. However, the apothecary thinks he died from bleeding, that Petrie must have had severe internal injuries or some fatal malady. It was anal bleeding. And, before you ask, no. The apothecary did not think he had been molested in that way. The man had seen this kind of bleeding before. It killed a local man who suffered much from stomach pains."

"Maybe what Petrie called his indigestion. God rest his soul." Both men paused in somber thought.

"Did he have any papers on him? Any letters?"

"No, Devonshire. There were no papers of any sort. The townspeople had no idea who he was. Also, I did not see any kind of will as I went through his London papers. However, he has a vault at the Bank of England. I, or we, can go this morning if you like."

"We needed him."

Darcy nodded. "However, the marriage settlement may give a big part of the answer. It is very unusual. Gardiner Enterprises exists only because of it. Henry settled thirty thousand pounds on Mrs. Bennet's younger brother, Edward Gardiner."

Will raised his eyebrows.

"My reaction, too. I found it out while you were traveling. I have known of it for two days now. Henry must have meant for Gardiner to take care of Mrs. Bennet. Must have thought it the only just and reasonable thing after Mrs. Bennet so violated her vows. Though why he waited until Lydia was born to cut Mrs. Bennet off remains the great unknown. I still cannot see how Henry kept her in his will as long as he did. That period where Gardiner visited Clapham Common so often must hold part of the key. Something more must give meaning to the words Miss Elizabeth heard Henry say. 'Been used. Philips. Gardiner.' I still do not know where Philips fits into all this."

Darcy paused for a moment. "Will, I think Mrs. Bennet's father must have been a hard, cold man. There was little in the settlement to protect his daughter. Henry's old attorney told me that he, the attorney, had been shocked at the lack of care for a seventeen year old girl. Everything was designed solely to help Edward start Gardiner Enterprises. As a consequence, Henry, Petrie and the attorney drew Henry's will very carefully. They tried to add in all the provisions that her father should have seen to in the marriage settlement. Of course, that will is now gone."

Darcy was lost in thought for a moment. _Georgiana. Thank the Lord that she will never suffer from such neglect. _

Darcy continued. "So we are still partly in the dark. I will lay odds, though, that Gardiner is meant to take care of the four women now. Someone must have put in place something to ensure it. Everyone, including yourself, is adamant that Henry would not have put them out on the street. We just have not found the missing pieces. With Henry, Petrie and Old Gardiner all dead, we may never know all of it. Our next, best move is to question Edward Gardiner, but he is still not in London."

"He is at Longbourn. They are reading Henry Bennet's will today. While we were at Chatsworth, we came up with a temporary solution, a way to buy time." Will explained the addition that they had made to Henry's will. "However, even with what we know about Gardiner, I want the entire story. Elizabeth is adamant that she will not cast her mother and sisters out without a home. Uncle Henry's will could not be more clear. I am the executor, the guardian, the trustee. I am bound by Henry's desires. Elizabeth will not be pleased at my actions if Gardiner does not step in to support them."

Darcy looked up with sympathy. He would not want to be the one locking horns with Elizabeth over this. "Have your father's papers provided any answers?"

"No. There must be papers about this, but I have not found them. We have all stacks of paper on responsibilities to different people, things the Duchy has done for the family, scrapes we have extracted people from. But this, nothing."

Darcy nodded in commiseration.

"One more thing Will. Appleby does not want to talk. I sense that whatever he overheard or whatever Henry confided to the man will go to Appleby's grave with him. You or even Miss Elizabeth might have better luck. Frankly, I doubt it. He was Henry' s valet, his personal man. As such, he feels it his duty to never repeat anything he saw or heard. It makes no difference that Henry is now dead. I believe Appleby would rather face torture than ever to breathe a word. Henry Cavendish inspired much loyalty."

**Longbourn, April 24, 1812**

Elizabeth went slowly up the stairs. She had left her mother with Uncle Gardiner and Mr. Higginbotham. Fanny Bennet had stopped talking as soon as Jane left the room. Elizabeth had only been successful in making her mother understand that she must still keep the truth of the younger girls' fathers a secret. She must still tell no one. If Fanny let anything slip, Mary, Kitty and Lydia would be ruined forever. They would never marry. That Fanny had understood. For the rest of it, Elizabeth was not sure that she minded not knowing. How many more of Fanny's crimes did she want to hear? How did more details of the betrayals matter?

She was shocked out of her introspection by Kitty and Lydia, who were standing at the top of the stairs. "Lizzy, is it true? Are we thrown into the hedgerows? That evil Mr. Collins has been walking around. Everywhere! He is whistling!"

Their frightened eyes made them look even younger. Elizabeth choked up a little and was not sure she could speak. She hugged both girls to her. "It shall not be as bad as all that. Uncle Gardiner is with Mother now. I am sure we shall have details in a short while. I need to see Jane. Why do not you two go and find Mary? See how she fares?"

"Mary?" questioned Lydia with disdain. "Why look for her? She will only quote scripture. I would much rather walk into Meryton. That should provide a distraction." The two girls giggled.

Elizabeth lost a good deal of the tenderness she had been feeling.

Elizabeth found Jane curled up on her bed, eyes staring into space. Elizabeth climbed up on the bed, near the head and behind Jane's back. Jane turned around and buried her face in Elizabeth's lap. The two sisters closed their arms around each other as best they could. Holding each other tightly, neither spoke. Eventually, emotionally exhausted, they both fell asleep.

Elizabeth awoke first, covered her sister with a blanket and rang for tea. Elizabeth washed her face and straightened her clothes. Just as she was about to start on her hair, there was a soft knock on the door. Elizabeth opened it. Mrs. Hill had personally brought the tea. Elizabeth took the heavy tray from the older woman and carried it to a table in the far corner of the room. Mrs. Hill followed her.

Whispering so as not to awaken the sleeping Jane, Mrs. Hill said "Miss Elizabeth, the staff are sore worried about not hearing anything from Mr. Petrie."

"So am I."

Mrs. Hill looked down at the floor. She obviously wanted to say something more.

"Mrs. Hill, it is alright. You can tell me anything. Please, what is it?"

"We was, us all, working for your father. I mean of course we was. But we really did for the master, not the mistress." She looked at Elizabeth and seemed to gain some courage. "We all reported to Mr. Petrie on the goings on here. Me and Mr. Hill was here first, but now all we come from other Cavendish estates. After Miss Lydia was born, Mr. Petrie and us, we slowly got rid of everyone that wasn't a Cavendish servant and replaced them with one of us. Mr. Petrie always told us that when you was grown and Mr. Henry was gone, we could go back home if we wanted or we could stays in the estate's cottages near here. Whatever it is we wished. He promised us extra money with the time came." Hill's voice became even softer as she said this last part.

_That makes perfect sense._ "I will be here for another day. Longer if you need me. I will look at all the bequests in the wills. I will do it tonight so you can come to me one at a time about the situation. Do not worry Mrs. Hill, all will be well. I will make sure of it. Also, Mrs. Bennet and the younger girls are going to another house, probably Purvis Lodge, for at least a year. I will need some more people there who will send reports to me. Will you ask for me? Find out if there are any of the staff , ones you trust, who would be willing to stay on another year to help me out? Heavens knows I need all the good help I can get while I figure all this out."

Mrs. Hill boldly took the younger woman's hands. "Miss Elizabeth, child, you can trust us all. We will decide who is staying and I will come and talk again."

"Bless you, Mrs. Hill." Elizabeth squeezed Hill's hands gently and kissed her on the cheek.

Looking back over at Jane asleep in the bed, Hill asked "You will get Miss Jane away from here?"

"I will Mrs. Hill. I promise I will."

Higginbotham wandered into Longbourn's dining room. A sideboard of breads, meats and sweets lay ready for anyone who desired sustenance. _Lovely staff they have here._

Settling down to enjoy the fare, Higginbotham was struck by the similarity of his situation now to that of only a few days ago. Here he was, waiting once again to tell one of Henry Cavendish's heirs that she had a fortune. _Just like a few days ago, here I am eating. _Just like Miss Elizabeth, Miss Jane had gone off to rest, to absorb the truths revealed by the will. And, just like Miss Elizabeth, Miss Jane had not asked about her bequest.

It was almost enough to restore his faith in human nature.

**St. James Square, April 24, 1812**

His Royal Highness, Prince Lieven, wearing only his robe, strolled into his wife's bathing room. Her attendants immediately cast their eyes to the floor and exited the room, closing the doors behind them.

Dorothea smiled to herself and leaned back in her tub, stretching her long legs over one edge. Khristofor brought a chair over and positioned it to give himself a full view of his young wife.

"Greetings, my dear. I hope you were satisfied with the gentlemen's club this afternoon. While you were gone, I enjoyed a delightful English tea with Lady Jersey and her friends. Did you know they run an exclusive little assembly at a place called Almack's? We are invited to join them next Wednesday. Quite the honor, I understand. It should go a long way toward ensuring our acceptance here. Also, there was much talk of that pretty young duke we met in Derby, although none of the ladies seemed to realize how much he knows of Russia."

"Pretty young duke? He's a boy, Dorothea. Behave yourself."

"Oh, Khristofor, you know I only look. And he is not so _very_ young. I think I shall like London enormously. I believe we will have a little party here soon."

"The boy is in mourning. And, what I believe, dear wife," said the Prince as he stood up and removed his robe, "is that you need some help washing your legs."

**Meryton, April 24, 1812**

_Finally. _Philips' wife had brought the gossip home. Philips had not been invited to the reading of the will. He had waited all day for some sort of news. Luckily for him, his nosy wife had been able to resist no longer and had called on her sister.

_So, Henry left nothing to the youngest THREE._ Philips laughed. He had not known about Mary. _I wonder who her father is._

Suddenly, he scowled. The meaning of this hit him. _That whore! She let another one have her and she continues to refuse me! She will pay for this! And I will have her!_

_Forget that for a moment. I need to plan_. It was time to see Wickham again. He doubted that the cad had made any inroads with Jane. She was in seclusion, actually mourning. And the militia was leaving Meryton soon. _Lydia. She is the best target. But how to keep her in harm's way? How to give Wickham time and opportunity, freedom and access?_

Visions of Lydia giggling with the young and foolish Mrs. Foster floated into Philips' head. _Lydia will have to travel with the militia to Brighton!_

_I cannot set it up yet. We need some of those nosy, interfering people to leave Longbourn first. Sending Lydia to Brighton will delight both Fanny and Lydia. Wickham will have all the freedom he needs. Maybe I should plant an early seed in Colonel Foster's ear._

**Mayfair, April 25, 1812**

Darcy entered the ballroom with his usual scowl in place. Bingley elbowed him in the ribs. Darcy rolled his eyes.

Across the room, their entry had been noticed by Princess Lieven. She looked the two men over from head to toe. _My heavens, they are beautiful. _Leaning over to Lady Jersey, she whispered, "Those newcomers, are they people I should know?"

Lady Jersey followed Dorothea's eyes over to the group. "Not the blond one. He is from trade. A respectable fortune, though. The women are his sisters. They have pretensions well above their station. Almack's, of course, does not receive them."

Dorothea nodded and looked at the two women. "Well, they might be elegant if they were less adorned. One can always spot pretenders. They never fail to give themselves away, do they?"

Lady Jersey agreed. "The tall, dark man, though, you should meet. Splendid fortune, ancient family. Royal blood flows in those veins."

"And his name? His title?"

"He is Fitzwilliam Darcy, named for his grandfather, the late Earl Fitzwilliam. There is no title on the Darcy side."

"Why ever not? More trade?"

Lady Jersey laughed gently. "No indeed. The Darcy family is more ancient than the Fitzwilliams. And, the Darcys do not come from the wrong side of the blanket. There are still titles floating around some of the side branches of the family. However, that young man is the direct heir of the ancient line. As to the title, back in the time of Henry VIII, Lord Darcy crossed the King. Lost his head over it. The whole line has refused every title offered since, as if they are still offended. It gives new meaning to the term implacable resentment. It has always been said that Darcy pride matches that of any king."


	14. Part 2, Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: **A few chapters ago, we met William Fitzwilliam, 4th Earl Fitzwilliam. He is worthy of his own novel. (For that matter, I think one could write a decent saga of the histories of England and Ireland through the eyes of this family.)

At the age of eight, Fitzwilliam inherited two earldoms, one in the peerage of Great Britain and the other in the peerage of Ireland. That may make him sound wealthy, but there was a problem. His father had left him riddled with debt.

At the time he came of age, the total income from all his properties was about 6,900 pounds per year. However, servicing his debts cost him 3,300 of that. 11 This means that his annual income was only about 3,600 pounds. Substantial, but not impressive for his station.

Things would change. By the time he died, his annual income was somewhere between 125,000 and 140,000 pounds. 12 In any case, we can think of it as around a million dollars a month in present terms.

The first changes were through his own hands. When he came of age, he sold off a property in Norfolk and cleared his estates of debt. 13 Surely, his competent management increased his income, but the first real alteration in his circumstances occurred when his mother's male relatives died out. He then inherited an vast estate. Overnight, his annual income increased by a factor of ten.

On top of that, he became truly interested in collieries (coal mines.) The final immense wealth came when he discovered that his Wentworth estate straddled one of the richest coal seams in England.

What really makes him interesting, though, is that he appears to have been a very good man. A childhood friend, Lord Carlisle, wrote a poem about him:

...

Who aids the old, who soothes the mother's cry,

Who feeds the hungry, who assists the lame?All, all re-echo with Fitzwilliam's know'st I hate to flatter, yet in theeNo fault, my friend, no single speck I see. 14

Fitzwilliam was sincerely dedicated to the common welfare and to a justly run government. He spent much time and energy in public service. He was made to suffer, deeply, several times when he refused to set aside his principles for political expediency. Lord Holland would say of Fitzwilliam:

"It was not... his princely fortune... which conferred the sort of importance he enjoyed for half a century in this country. He derived it more directly and more certainly from his goodness and generosity, and from the combination of gentleness and courage which distinguished his amiable and unpretending character. Such unblemished purity and such unobtrusive intrepidity, such generosity of feeling, firmness of purpose, and tenderness of heart, meeting in one of high station and princely fortune, commanded the affection and confidence of the public..." 15

His character shone through even in his ownership of coal mines. He became known as a just, caring and generous master in the midst of an industry known for its heartlessness.

And, of course, there is a romantic mystery at the center of Earl Fitzwilliam's tale. Just after the mourning period for his first wife had passed, the earl married again in 1823. He married the former Louisa Molesworth. 16 She had been the widow of William Ponsonby since 1806. Louisa died shortly after her marriage to Fitzwilliam. She was 74 years old when she passed away. 17

From the digging that I did, it looks as if Louisa and Fitzwilliam knew each other from childhood. Fitzwilliam did not marry for the first time until after Louisa had married Ponsonby. At that point in history, Ponsonby was a much more powerful and wealthy man than was Fitzwilliam.

What happened here? Were Louisa and Fitzwilliam in love all the time? Did she jilt him and marry for fortune? Did her parents force her into a union with the older but wealthier Ponsonby? Had Fitzwilliam and Louisa loved each other, futilely, for over half a century?

11. .org/wiki/William_Fitzwilliam,_4th_Earl_Fitzwilliam and E. A. Smith, _Whig Principles and Party Politics. Earl Fitzwilliam and the Whig Party. 1748-1833_ (Manchester University Press, 1975), p. 11-12

12. .org/wiki/William_Fitzwilliam,_4th_Earl_Fitzwilliam and .com/doi/10.1111/j.1467-8586.00002.x/abstract

13. .org/wiki/William_Fitzwilliam,_4th_Earl_Fitzwilliam and Smith,

p. 11-12

14. .org/wiki/William_Fitzwilliam,_4th_Earl_Fitzwilliam and Smith,

p. 6

15. .org/wiki/William_Fitzwilliam,_4th_Earl_Fitzwilliam and Lord Stavordale (ed.), _Further Memoirs of the Whig Party. 1807-1821. With Some Miscellaneous Reminiscences. By Henry Richard Vassall, Third Lord Holland_ (London: John Murray, 1905), p. 255.

16. .11721

17. .org/wiki/William_Ponsonby,_1st_Baron_Ponsonby and

20266

**Part 2**

**Chapter 5**

**Meryton, April 25, 1812**

Philips listened very carefully to all of his wife's babbling. News of the demise of Petrie was sprinkled throughout it. Philips was stunned. Petrie had been missing all this time! _Then, who sent those two ruffians with Higginbotham? Who is the threat to me?_

**Longbourn, April 25, 1812**

Elizabeth was nearly limp as Nolet prepared her for bed. Elizabeth's whole day had been filled with worried people; worried tenants, worried servants, worried sisters, even a worried aunt and a worried uncle. And Charlotte was really worried when she began to find out that none of the servants were staying. The only happy person was Mr. Collins. If he did not leave soon, Elizabeth was afraid that the rest of the estate would pillory him. She sincerely hoped that Charlotte and Uncle Gardiner would soon convince him to go back to Hunsford, for at least a month. _I wish Lady Catherine would just order him back. That would take care of it._

Near the beginning of the day, Elizabeth had known that she needed someone to help her take notes. It would not do to forget promises to anyone or to lose track of things to be followed up on. _Forget a companion. What I need is a confidential secretary! _She had commandeered the Hill's son, Robert. They had just finished a two hour review of the day.

Things were coming together nicely at Longbourn. Fanny and the girls were moving permanently to Purvis Lodge. Uncle Gardiner would pay the rent on the lodge after the first year. Elizabeth intended to set that rent aside for her sisters' future needs. The women were to have the income off Fanny's five thousand pounds as their allowance. Even with Hill's indifferent management, the income from the estate should pay for the servants' wages, food, supplies and upkeep for both the tenants and the lodge. Uncle Gardiner had privately agreed to supplement everything within reason. In addition, he would provide a small dowry for each girl. The amount was not yet determined. Lizzy had not said anything, but she would secretly add to those dowries once she had control of her inheritance. Mary and, to Elizabeth's surprise, Kitty had been interested in some kind of schooling. For now, they would start with the ex-governess, who was coming to stay at Purvis Lodge as one of the companions. Lydia saw no need to change the way she lived_. She is not going to like it when her new companion sticks to her like glue._

Details and loose ends floated in Elizabeth's head as Nolet tucked her into bed_. I have to see that they have a carriage. What do I want to keep from this house and stables? Maybe I will just have it all packed and sent. Sent where? Father's equipment to Clapham Common, yes. But the rest? Store it where? Maybe the back house on Blenheim Street? I must find a home. Maybe one of the estates will feel right. And London. _Elizabeth moaned. London was also to be full of responsibilities. Not just practical things like access to funds for her and Jane, but so many wanted a piece of Elizabeth in their mourning of Henry. From servants all the way to the Queen, they wanted to see her. Elizabeth's presence would be required many times and in many places.

**Road to London, April 27, 1812**

Jane was sleeping. Elizabeth was looking out of the window, but did not register any of the countryside as it went by. After church yesterday, they had held a memorial service for Mr. Petrie. It was small. Only Jane, Elizabeth, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and the Longbourn servants had been there. The grief among the servants had been palpable. They, every one of them, had come to Elizabeth, either the day before or after the services, to offer condolences on the great loss to them all. They seemed nearly as concerned for Elizabeth as they had been when expressing their sorrow at the death of her father.

Elizabeth was truly surprised that the loss of Mr. Petrie was seen as nearly as bad as the loss of Henry. When all the servants had come to her on Saturday, looking for reassurance about the bequests, Lizzy had not registered how deep their grief was. At the memorial, it was unavoidable. Thoughts of it would not leave her head. _Petrie and I always locked horns. He made everything difficult for me. But the servants, they respected him so very much. Have I again been blind? Was Petrie really so difficult, or is it that he hurt my pride a long time ago? Did his refusal to listen to my childhood ideas about the tenants color all my perceptions afterward? Or is it more than that? If he was so respected, why was he so hard on me?_ The truth hit Elizabeth like a bolt of lightening. She gasped. _I am the heir. Petrie knew that. He was challenging me, teaching me, testing me, preparing me! My own dear Papa lived in a different world, a world of science. But, Petrie knew what lay in store for me! Great Heavens! He was acting a father to me! _

**Cheapside, April 28, 1812**

"Excuse me sir. His Grace, the Duke of Devonshire and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy are here to see you."

Gardiner followed his butler into the hall to greet his illustrious guests. Their serious countenances only confirmed what Gardiner's heart knew. These men were aware of the dark side of things. Gardiner's eyes flew momentarily to Darcy. _This is the man so detested in Meryton. How does he fit in here and can I trust him? _

When they were all seated in Gardiner's study, Will began to speak. "Mr. Gardiner, I know that you are aware of Henry Bennet's true identity."

Gardiner spoke. "Forgive my interruption, Your Grace. I have a letter for you to read that may save us all a lot of time." Edward pulled out a key, unlocked a drawer of his desk, retrieved the unsigned missive and handed it to Will.

Will read it through and handed it to Darcy who did the same.

_So, Gardiners old and young knew all three were bastards._

Will spoke. "Mr. Gardiner, we are here in the interests of Jane and Elizabeth."

Edward looked at Will and nodded.

"Can you tell us, sir, what was the perfidy of your brother Philips? What were his actions alluded to in the letter?"

"I am sorry, Your Grace. I do not know. My brother Philips is not satisfied with his lot in life. My guess is that he tried to use knowledge of Henry Bennet's true identity to his advantage. I do not know how. If he knew about the girls, he kept quiet."

Darcy could tell that Gardiner was holding something back. "Please Mr. Gardiner. What else? Tell us even if it be just supposition."

Edward looked into Darcy's eyes. They held condemnation, but maybe also compassion? "It has always been my feeling that Philips covets Fanny Bennet in an inappropriate manner."

"Do you think he fathered one or more of the girls?"

"I cannot know, but I do not believe it. Not unless it was forced. Fanny truly dislikes the man. She disliked him from the start, from the time Philips first became father's clerk."

"What do you know of the younger girls' fathers?"

"Fanny has never told me. I was young, maybe ten or eleven when Fanny and Henry married. I spent most of my youth from home. When I finished school, I came straight to London. I was not there to see anything with my own eyes."

"How did you come to know they were bastards?"

Gardiner flinched at the term. "My father. When he became ill, he wanted my help. He told me we had to control Fanny at all costs."

"How old were you then?"

"Twenty two, twenty three. Also, I do not believe that my father knew the identity of Fanny's lover. I think he would have told me."

The conversation shifted to the care of Fanny and the three girls. Gardiner told Will and Darcy of the permanent arrangements that were being made. Gardiner also told them that he was installing some spies in the new house.

Darcy wanted to smile, but held his face to strict neutrality. _Fanny Bennet and those girls are going to be the most watched women in England. _Darcy had put in spies. So had Will. Darcy was sure that Elizabeth would have put in spies of her own. Apparently so had the writer of that anonymous letter. Now Gardiner had joined the crowd.

In the end, Gardiner had been able to provide little information that the men did not already know. _At least he is accepting responsibility for the family._

Edward walked the two men to the door. As they were about to leave, Will turned to Edward. "Mr. Gardiner, the threat in that unsigned letter, I do not feel it is to be taken lightly."

Gardiner solemnly nodded. "I could not agree more."

"If anything happens, if you need help, please let us both know right away."

Relief and gratitude flowed through Gardiner. "Bless you, Your Grace. Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

Edward walked slowly back to his study. _If anything happens, I will go to Mr. Darcy first._ Edward felt strongly that the young Duke's father had written that letter. _Someone in the Duke's household could trigger my doom. No. If I need help, I will throw myself on Mr. Darcy's mercy. The opinion in Meryton be damned._

Will spoke as he and Darcy rode away. "I will have a chance to talk to Elizabeth this evening. It may be that she has learned something more."

The two men were silent for a few minutes and then Will spoke again. "Darcy, the writing in that letter. I would know it anywhere. We were right in thinking that my father knew it all. God only knows what he has set in place if it comes to revenge. Mr. Gardiner deserves our pity."

**Devonshire House, May 1, 1812**

Just as Will was walking Jane, Elizabeth and Amabel to their carriage, another equipage entered through the gates. Recognizing it, Will leaned over to whisper in Elizabeth's ear. "Nicer than normal gracious, love. This is important."

Elizabeth hid her curiosity and turned to greet the visitors. Lady Amabel and Elizabeth recognized the callers. They had all been introduced in Derby. All the civilities were followed as greetings were made and Jane was introduced to the Russian prince and princess.

Then, looking at Jane, the princess spoke. "My word, what a beauty you are, but I am sure that is what you always hear." Princess Dorothea became serious. "Please, Miss Cavendish, and once again, Miss Elizabeth, accept our sincerest condolences on the loss of your father. Indeed, it is a loss to the entire civilized world. What I would have given to have met him, to have seen where he worked! He was well known in my home land."

_Well, here is my chance at extra nice. You owe me again, Will Cavendish. _Elizabeth turned to the princess. "Indeed, Your Highness, I must visit his laboratories tomorrow. Should your schedule permit, I would be most honored to show them to you." _There Will. Take that!_

Princess Dorothea looked delighted. She let them know that her schedule would be cleared and a positive appointment was made. Elizabeth's carriage would pick up the princess on the morrow.

The present meeting was short, as the ladies were on their way to the Queen. Poor Lady Amabel. Her dreams of Elizabeth's curtsey before Her Majesty had turned into this. The Queen wished to honor Henry Cavendish and to meet his daughters. Amabel and her lovely young nieces, dressed in full mourning, were to take tea with the Queen. _Amabel, get over this! When they are out of mourning, you can still give them a spectacular first ball. The rest is lost. Leave it be!_

Whatever it was that Dorothea or Elizabeth expected from their outing, it was not what each found the next day. Both were experienced at seeking common ground with a new acquaintance. What they discovered astounded them both. Neither had ever expected to meet another woman with a gentleman's interests and education. They spoke easily of science, coming innovations in transportation and manufacturing, Henry's equipment and experiments, and the Royal Society.

All differences between them must give way under such a circumstance. It was like suddenly finding a twin sister when one had spent a lifetime thinking herself an only child. A bond was formed. It would never be broken.

Elizabeth was dismayed when she noted how much time had passed. She had an appointment at the British Museum. Henry Cavendish had a deep and long relationship there and Elizabeth was going to assure the curator that the beneficence would continue.

Dorothea was only too delighted to accompany Elizabeth to the museum and to meet the curator. The princess had discovered that the young Cavendish heir was about to travel and their budding friendship would be interrupted. Here was an opportunity to spend more time with Elizabeth and to see some of the famous museum. Dorothea was in heaven.

Elizabeth and Dorothea left the curator's office, turned a corner, and there, not twenty feet away, stood Mr. Darcy.

"Mr. Darcy!"

"Miss Bennet!"

Darcy's and Elizabeth's eyes were locked on each other. The cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush.

None of this escaped the notice of Princess Lieven. _My, my. This is interesting._

Darcy recovered first and approached the two women. He tried to coherently greet them both, offer condolences to Elizabeth and civil enquires to the princess.

"How lovely to see you again, Mr. Darcy. However, you must excuse me for a moment. It is my first trip to your excellent museum and I simply must see that urn over there." With that, Dorothea walked away to give Elizabeth and Darcy a little privacy.

Miss Bingley had gone in search of Darcy. He had somehow become separated from their little group. _There he is, talking to the princess! And that little chit! Wait, wait. The princess is walking away_. Caroline backed up a little. The princess would reach her in a moment and they would be out of the line of sight of that slut. _How dare that upstart speak to a princess!_ Suddenly, Caroline realized that this was her big moment. She could perform a favor for royalty! Caroline was nearly dizzy with the thrill. And then, the princess looked straight at her, nodded slightly and continued on. _NO! She did not stop to speak. Wait. It is alright. I can still approach her. She will not be offended when she learns what I have to tell._

"Your Highness. Your Highness."

Dorothea turned and leveled an imperious stare at Caroline.

"Forgive my impertinence in approaching you. I needed to warn you of something." Caroline gulped a little as Dorothea made no response other than to raise an eyebrow. "The woman you were just with, I wanted to save you from associating with such a one."

_Unbelievable! _Dorothea's stare became more stern.

"She is a kept woman, a mistress. The Duke of Devonshire's mistress."

Dorothea's face remained haughty and stern. She said not a word.

"Thank you. Thank you, your most gracious Highness for hearing me." Caroline backed away. When Dorothea turned and walked back toward Darcy and Elizabeth, Caroline nearly collapsed against the wall. _I am not sure that went well._

The meeting between Darcy and Elizabeth was impossibly civil, almost incoherent, and blessedly short. It was only a few minutes before Princess Lieven returned to them and Darcy took his leave.

If asked, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth would have been able to recall the particulars of their conversation. However, they were both reasonably sure that they had not totally disgraced themselves.

For Darcy, this was not nearly enough. As soon as he was out of sight, his shoulders slumped. _Such a meeting cannot improve her opinion of me. It was with a princess. Elizabeth will believe me civil only because royalty was present. Oh, that I have another chance!_

Elizabeth's blush was not fading with time. The princess kept up a light and easy conversation while her new friend regained her composure. Dorothea's mind, however, was busy with the possibilities. _What a splendid union this would be! Two ancient lines and such fortunes! They will make a formidable couple. Oh, and the children! The children will be heavenly._

When Elizabeth had recovered some, the princess inquired, "Miss Bennet?"

Lizzy waved her hand in dismissal. "That was my father's name in the country. I am Elizabeth Ann Bennet Cavendish." It required little thought on Elizabeth's part. She had decided a few years ago how she would answer such inquires. Elizabeth had always been bothered by keeping two names. If they collided one day, so be it. At first, the truths about her mother had staggered this determination. Elizabeth knew how worried everyone was about the scandal. Elizabeth herself had been petrified about the futures of her younger sisters. As the days went on, this began to change. She had internalized a few things while growing up with Will's parents. A scandal, even a large, continuous one, was not always fatal. Oh, Elizabeth would still do her best to avoid it. But if it all came to light, well so be that, too. They would deal with it. The real meaning of what Lizzy had inherited was slowly settling into her bones. She was wealthy, very wealthy. That had to mean power. She might not know how to use it yet, but she was no longer so afraid. _Of course, it helps that Will and Aunt Amelia are behind me. _She certainly would not hide.

"My father kept us from society. Mr. Darcy first met me as Miss Bennet."

After they had settled back into their carriage, Princess Dorothea caught Elizabeth's eye. "I thought you should know, my dear, that you are the good Duke's mistress.

Elizabeth's eyes went wide. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. It was no good. In a moment, both ladies were laughing.

Suddenly, Elizabeth sobered. "But what dreadful gossip! From whom did you hear such a thing?"

"A Miss Something or Other. She was in the museum just now. I first saw her last week, at a ball. She came in as a part of that handsome Mr. Darcy's entourage." Dorothea watched Elizabeth's face as she mentioned Mr. Darcy's name. "She was with her brother, who I understand is from trade."

_Mr. Darcy? A brother in trade? It can only be..._

"Miss Bingley?"

"Yes. That is it."

"Why ever would she spread such a dreadful slander? How did she come to tell you?"

"SHE came right up and spoke to me! She begged forgiveness for her impertinence, but wanted to save me from speaking with a fallen woman."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but she was frowning. _Of all things. Will is not going to be pleased. For that matter, I am not pleased! Miss Bingley has obviously not learned my real name!"_

Dorothea watched the face of her new friend. Elizabeth was disturbed. "Do not let such a creature trouble you, my dear. If she decides to spread this, I shall know how to act."

Elizabeth looked up at Dorothea. _Yes, Princess. I believe you would. _Lizzy smiled. In a short while, the two women were enjoying a spirited conversation about Greek versus Etruscan vases and they were pleased to find that they both had read Winckelmann's _History of Ancient Art._

**Darcy House, May 2, 1812**

Darcy was elated. Elizabeth would be at Wentworth House at the same time as Darcy's party. Bingley and Jane would be able to meet again. _And I will have a chance to see her! To try and change her opinion of me! _

Once Darcy had learned that Elizabeth's trip to one of her estates would include a fortnight at Wentworth, he knew it would be easy to manipulate Bingley's itinerary to overlap.

Will had set up the Cavendishes' stay with the Earl. Fitzwilliam was a man who had gone very suddenly from a modest income to real wealth. Will knew that Fitzwilliam could be of profound help to Elizabeth as she grappled with the same circumstances. Most importantly, the earl was a man to be trusted.

Will meant to muster a strong group of people on whom Elizabeth could rely. She was about to be subject to all manner of manipulators. She needed to see as many safe faces as possible.

Early this morning, Devonshire and Darcy had met for well over an hour. Will had filled Darcy in on the things that Elizabeth had discovered. Mary's father now had an identity and the name of Kitty's father could easily be discovered. How many Freddys could have been in Meryton in early 1794? Philips, with the local lease records, would be the best source. Of course, they would never approach him. The answer would come.

For now, both men had been of like mind. They would quietly continue their inquiries, but the situation appeared stable. They would not risk upsetting it. Petrie's vault had not added anything useful. But, Gardiner had stepped up to care for the family. There was a tight network of spies in place. Will and Darcy would quickly become aware of any developments.

Now the concern was Elizabeth. Neither man voiced this aloud, but their conversation turned to her. Will filled Darcy in on Elizabeth's plans. She had decided to spend the first part of mourning far from London. This last fortnight had been used in honoring her obligations to her family, her servants, the Queen, the Royal Society, her father's laboratories and the British Museum. She could depart in peace. She would now slowly visit all her estates. Apart from her obligations there, she hoped for some quiet for herself and Jane. If comfortable, they planned to stay two or three months at the northern most estate and then slowly make their way back toward London.

Will was loaning her Blevins' nephew as a temporary secretary. Darcy offered a loan of his under steward if she needed him.

Near the end of the conversation, the two men had looked into each other's eyes. Will had turned away. Darcy instantly knew they had reached the moment he had been fearing. _Will can tell, from my voice and my eyes. He can tell I care for her. Yes, Will. We are in love with the same woman. God only knows how this will end for us. But there was something there, when I saw her yesterday. If I have a chance, then even for you, my old friend, I do not know that I can step aside._

**Grosvenor Street, May 3, 1812**

"Mr. Bingley, sir. His Grace, the Duke of Devonshire is here to see you."

Bingley bounded into the hallway to greet Will and brought him back to the study.

As soon as the door was closed, Will turned to Charles. "Bingley, I am afraid this is not a social call."

Charles froze. _Has he learned of my love for Jane? Did she tell him? Did Elizabeth? Is he here to remind me of my place?_

"I am sorry to say that this regards your sister."

_My sister? Oh, no. The gossip._

"Bingley, I wanted to give you a chance to deal with this before I take it into my own hands."

"Caroline?"

"Yes. I have it on good authority that she has tried to spread a rumor that my cousin is my mistress."

The following morning, Charles and Caroline Bingley left for Scarborough.

Bingley would join Darcy and the Colonel at Wentworth in a little more than a sennight, after he had firmly settled his unhappy sister with their relatives.

**Street of London, May 4, 1812**

Elizabeth sat back and closed her eyes. Finally they were on the road. A few days at Chatsworth to rest and collect Ramya and then they would head for Wentworth. Elizabeth looked over at Jane. She saw her own relief reflected in her sister.

**Wentworth House, May 12, 1812**

The good Colonel had arrived yesterday. Darcy had gone to pay a brief visit to Pemberley and would join them on the fourteenth. Bingley should arrive on the same day.

The Fitzwilliam family now stood on the steps, waiting to welcome their visitors.

Elizabeth was delighted to meet the Fitzwilliams again. She had liked them all very much. She was also pleased to meet the Viscount's wife and new son. Most especially, both Elizabeth and Jane were intensely interested when they were introduced to the shy Georgiana Darcy. She was so timid and so young! This was the rival for Mr. Bingley's affections? Elizabeth took instant pity on the girl and did her best to set Georgiana at ease. Ramya's presence, dressed as she was in her Indian garb, had caused a stir. Elizabeth had seen the spark of interest in Georgina's eyes. Ramya would be a great help in drawing the young girl out.

When Elizabeth looked around the group for a moment, she almost laughed. _The predictable reaction._ All three Fitzwilliam men were staring, spellbound, at Jane.

Lady Fitzwilliam took over. "Come inside, everyone. How tired you must all be. I will see you to your rooms right away." The Countess did see them comfortably situated and told them all that they were not expected to attend dinner. They needed to rest. The servants would take care of everything. And they did.

Downstairs, Will followed the Fitzwilliam men to the Earl's study. "Pour us all a drink, brother," the Viscount called out to Richard. "I really need one. My word. That Jane Cavendish! I have never seen such a beauty." Will smiled. The Earl chuckled.

The Colonel was quiet as he poured the drinks. He was utterly overcome. _Yes, brother. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on._

Both Jane and Elizabeth were happy to be alone, in their separate rooms. Each was shocked and unsure of what she was feeling. They had both heard, amidst the chatter of their arrival, that an addition was expected to the party in two days. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were to come.

**Wentworth House, May 13, 1812**

Will knocked on the door. Elizabeth opened it slightly and started on seeing him. She quickly poked her head out, looking up and down the empty hall.

"Good grief! Get inside before someone sees you!" She pulled him by the arm into the room, closing and locking the door behind them. "Aunt Amelia would have both our heads! I, for one, do not want another lecture on propriety!"

Will tried to keep his eyes on Elizabeth's face as he smiled and answered. "Well, I do not know Wentworth's secret passages." _Look at her face, not her nightgown_. He spotted the small glass of brandy over by the fire. "I see my timing is perfect."

She followed his gaze and then rolled her eyes. But, he knew she was holding back a smile.

Grabbing her robe and slipping it on, she said, "Very well. I have more brandy, but only one glass. We will have to share."

The very idea made his blood race.

When they were seated, she poured and handed him the glass. After he drank, he returned it to her. Will watched as she took a sip. Her lips were right where his had been.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head back a little. She was enjoying the taste of the fiery liquid in her mouth. He watched her long and creamy neck as she swallowed. Then her tongue flicked out to lick a drop off her upper lip. Will leaned toward her. His whole being was focused on letting his own tongue trace over that same place.

He barely caught himself. He leaned back and willed his heart to quiet.

"Lizzy."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her look was warm, filled with love, friendship, pleasure and trust. Everything. Everything except desire.

"Lizzy. The Earl, the Viscount and I have to travel to London, as soon as it is light. Perceval has been assassinated."

**End of Part 2**


	15. Interlude

**Author's Notes:**

**1) **John Bellingham shot and killed Spencer Perceval on May 11, 1812. He was tried and found guilty on Friday, May 15th and was hanged on Monday, May 18th.

It was the only time in history that a British Prime Minister has been assassinated.

At first, people were afraid the assassination portended larger dangers, such as a French invasion or more Luddite rioting. These were not the case.

Bellingham's grievance was his uncompensated Russian imprisonment. He set himself as private judge to Perceval and found him guilty of denying Bellingham justice, justice that was the birthright of every British citizen. At his trial, Bellingham said, "...when a minister sets himself above the laws, as Mr. Perceval did, he does it at his own personal risk. If this were not so, the mere will of a minister would become law, and what would then become of your liberties?" 18

His call not to let "the upper ranks of society" 18 act with impunity struck a cord with many people in the rapidly changing Britain of that day. So much so that public donations provided a substantial fund to support his widow and children. 18

**2) **Wentworth House, country seat of the Earls Fitzwilliam well into the twentieth century and where we shall spend all most all of this chapter, is a very large place. It has the longest facade of any country house in Europe. The house has 365 rooms and was surrounded by a 150 acre park and a 90,000 acre estate. 19

**3) **Aubrey Beauclerk is mentioned this week. He was married to Countess Charlotte Fitzwilliam's sister, Catherine. NOT to be confused with the Earl Fitzwilliam's fictitious sister in our story, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

This 5th Duke of St. Albans, Aubrey Beauclerk, was the great grandson of King Charles II.

One story that is told is that when King Charles went to visit the boy and his mother, the King's mistress Eleanor Gwynne, Eleanor called out, "Come here, you little bastard, and say hello to your father." When the King protested her calling Charles that, she replied, "Your Majesty has given me no other name by which to call him." 20

In the fullness of time, the boy became His Grace, Charles Beauclerk, 1st Duke of St. Albans.

18. .org/wiki/John_Bellingham

19. .org/wiki/Wentworth_Woodhouse

20. .org/wiki/Nell_Gwyn

**Henry's Legacy**

**INTERLUDE**

**Wentworth House, May 13, 1812**

"Perceval assassinated? Oh, no. The French?"

"There were few details in these first expresses. I am sure we will learn more as we travel toward London. All we know now is that the man was apparently lying in wait outside Parliament. He pulled out a gun and shot Perceval through the heart. Then, the assassin simply sat down on a bench and waited to be taken into custody."

"Oh, Will. Poor Perceval. Poor England. Our head of government shot down. There will be uproar and fear everywhere. Of course you must go to London.

Will looked at his beloved and swallowed the lump in his throat. _I can do this. There is no other choice. Even if Darcy is in love with her, he is the only man I can trust with her. Remember, he said she loathes him. She loathes him. She loathes him. _A small voice whispered in his head. _Then she does not really know him and you are about to force her to see the real Darcy. You are a fool, Will._

Will closed his eyes and put his hand on his forehead. _I must still take the chance. Remember her eyes, her words. She loves me only as a brother. It does not matter anyway_. The pain was nearly too much, but he pushed it aside.

"Yes, Lizzy. I must go. So must the Earl and the Viscount. We can do nothing else. But you realize I cannot leave you alone in your current circumstances.

Elizabeth smiled. "Alone? Will you have me traveling with my own small army. I think the word alone belongs only in my dreams. Between you and Aunt Amelia, I may run mad just trying to actually be alone."

Will did not return her smile. He looked at her seriously. "Do not pretend to be obtuse. I know you better than that. You are, of course, welcome to retire to Chatsworth or Hardwick and just mourn in peace. Then you would have no need for anyone else. You know I would happily handle all of your affairs until you are ready. But you and I both know that is not your path, not your nature.

Lizzy frowned, but she did not contradict him.

"Do you remember, before you went into Kent, I mentioned that I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine?"

"Ah, yes. Your paragon of virtue."

"He is arriving here tomorrow. From what he and Bingley have said, I gather you may have already met him."

"Mr. Darcy?" she gasped.

Will watched, with some satisfaction, as incredulity covered Elizabeth's face.

_This is Will's 'fine, honorable man?' Will envies his skills as a master? Will thinks I would like Mr. Darcy? _Elizabeth could not believe it.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Lizzy, I know he can be awkward in social situations, but he is a very good man. I would and I have trusted him with that which is most precious to me." _I have trusted him with you, Elizabeth. _He had trusted Darcy with her secrets, her reputation, her peace of mind. These thoughts brought some calmness to Will's agitated heart. No matter what, he was correct to trust Lizzy to Darcy's care. He would let no harm befall her.

Elizabeth tried to hide her shock. "That sounds very much to his credit," she managed to say.

"It is no more than the truth. Everyone who really knows him will speak well of him." Elizabeth listened with increasing astonishment as Will added, "And the two of you share the same attitude of respect and kindness toward tenants and servants."

Now Elizabeth was really stunned. That Mr. Darcy was dismissive, foul tempered and rude to the lower classes had been one of her firmest ideas of him.

Will forged ahead. He had no desire to sit here and proclaim Darcy's virtues to Elizabeth. "Lizzy, I am sure that he will help you, see you safely to your estate, be available to get you settled and in control. Watch him deal with young Blevins. You will learn much. I must go now. I have many things to accomplish before morning."

He rose, stepped over to Elizabeth, kissed her on the forehead, and left the room.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Jane stood staring out her window, into the black nothingness. _Mr. Bingley will be here tomorrow. _She did not want to see him. She was not confrontational by nature and anger had to be what she was now feeling. Her months of sadness had given over to resignation. He was gone. Now, faced with seeing him again, this ugly new feeling had raised its head. How could she see him with this foreign emotion tearing at her? No matter how she tried, she could not soften it. She could not summon up the tender feelings that she had once harbored for him.

_All these months and I have heard nothing. He could have, at least, called to pay his condolences. I told him that I loved him. I opened my heart and he left me! He did not even try to talk to my father or my cousin. He did nothing to fight for me. He said he loved me. Is that love? What kind of love is that? My mother loved me. What kind of love was that? Love because I am beautiful? Love because I was never cross? Love indeed. Not love enough to protect us. What kind of mother betrays her little children like that? Betrays her husband like that?_

Jane chastised herself for having such horrible thoughts. Then, she said aloud, "NO!"

_I CAN think such thoughts. They are true. They must be true. Mother betrayed us all. She is what separated me from Elizabeth. It was not my father. No wonder he could bear only short times at Longbourn. And I, I chose to stay with my mother. My poor father. How he must have felt that._

Jane moved back to her bed and sat down. She was so lost. Her whole life had been a pretty dream. Everyone adored her. She had been the pampered and praised princess in a fairy tale. And just like in a story, her handsome knight had ridden in to sweep her off to happily ever after.

_Only he did not, did he?_ _He is not going to slay any dragons for me. At the first sign of an obstacle, he turned and fled. With not one word in all this time. Not even a token of sympathy for the death of my father. This cannot be love. _

A tear rolled down Jane's cheek. _We shall meet as common and indifferent acquaintances. That must be, after all, what we are._

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**Wentworth House, May 14, 1812**

Will's carriages were loaded and almost ready. The first pink glow of the morning sky could been seen on the horizon. Servants hurried to and fro, preparing the whole party for departure.

Will saw Bellis and his son standing nearby. Seeing Bellis always sent a shiver through Will. He knew the man was as loyal as the day was long. However, Will also knew that if he asked Bellis to do anything, even to kill someone, the man would carry out the order with no more emotion than if he were swatting a fly.

Such loyalty and such cold-bloodedness were a chilling combination. Will had often wondered what inspired such a man's devotion to the Devonshires. When Will asked his father, he received the old Duke's standard reply. _"It is one of those things that you will know when the time is right." _Will had heard that phrase so many times. _Now you are dead Father. It seems you missed the right time to tell me. _Will knew, the moment he had the thought, that this answer, at least, would be in that hidden spot in Devonshire House.

Once again, the old Duke's voice returned_. "One day. One day William, you will realize that you are, all you are, is the Duke of Devonshire. When that day comes, open this safe."_

_No Father. _Will answered the voice as he had answered the man at that time. They had been in the middle of one of their too common heated arguments. _I will not only be the Duke of Devonshire. I am a man. I am a part of humanity. If being nothing but Devonshire is what is required, I will never open this safe. I will not become you._

What never left Will about that scene was the look on his Father's face. To this day, Will was sure it had been pity.

As the weeks went by and Will could find no notes, no letters from his father about Uncle Henry, Will became increasing sure that the answers to all those questions also resided in that safe. _It does not matter. I will not open it. That is too high a price to pay._

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**Pemberley, May 14, 1812**

Darcy stood, in his dressing gown, watching the first fingers of what promised to be a rosy dawn creep into the sky. Soon his man would come to dress him and his servants would be rushing about, preparing the carriages for departure.

He smiled. _It is less than fifty miles, Miss Elizabeth. But, it is not good road._ Indeed, the roads across the peaks would be hard, but the scenery would be spectacular. He would love to ride horseback and enjoy every bit. _It will not do, though, to arrive filthy, disheveled, and smelling of horse. _Elizabeth would be on the other end of this journey. Besides, he doubted his mind would concentrate on the beauties of nature. The closer he came to Wentworth, the more distracted he would become. He knew himself well enough to be sure of that.

He stretched his long, powerful arms high over head, pulling the stretch all the way through his body and down to his toes. He could feel his muscles, his nerves, his skin. All of him felt - alive. _Thank you God. Thank you for another chance._

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**Wentworth House, May 14, 1812**

Nolet looked Elizabeth over with a critical eye. "I believe, ma'am, this new habit is the most flattering yet. When you are out of mourning, we can have one like it done in another color."

Elizabeth turned side to side and studied herself in the mirror. The clothing not only fit well, but was very comfortable. "As you think best, Nolet. For myself, black is a perfectly fine color for the riding I do. You know I try to avoid people anyway. A woman riding astride is not welcome everywhere."

"Begging your pardon ma'am, I think there have to be a lot of women who would prefer not to be perched sideways on a tall, moving beast. I think, when you are out of mourning, you should ride right down the middle of Rotten Row. If you wish to, of course. This riding habit is superb. No reason not to show it off."

Elizabeth smiled at her abigail. _You want to show off to society. You want to set the styles. Well, it appears you will finally have your chance to try for it. I cannot avoid the ton for a lifetime._ "Thank you, Nolet. Would you mind checking Jane? If her new maid is not up to standard, we will never hear a word from Jane's lips. The same applies to Mrs. Ramya. She is not used to her own woman. Keep an ear open, please."

Nolet recognized her instructions and her dismissal. Nodding her head, she moved off to do as she had been bid.

Elizabeth could already feel the wind blowing in her hair as she made for the stables.

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Colonel Fitzwilliam had been up before the first hints of dawn. With both his father and his brother leaving, he knew there would be many last minute instructions.

Now, the London party was off and Richard ached for a good ride before breakfast. As always, the fields of Wentworth were calling to him.

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Elizabeth had been lost in racing across the countryside and had to pull up quickly to acknowledge the Colonel.

He sat, arms folded across his chest and a huge smile on his face. He had obviously been watching her and enjoying the show. "Miss Cavendish."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth's greeting was friendly as she stopped her horse, unwound the ribbon from around her arm and tied her hair back. "What a pleasant surprise. And here I thought myself all alone."

Richard raised an eyebrow as he looked past her to the two men on horseback who were pulling up some distance away.

Elizabeth turned and followed Richard's eyes to the men. She smiled. "Yes, well. I suppose alone is a relative term. Perhaps, though, I can still make some great escape."

Richard frowned.

"Oh, no Colonel Fitzwilliam. Not you, too! Has Will set everyone to watch me?"

"You must surrender, Miss Cavendish." Richard put particular emphasis on her last name. "It was not only the good Duke who approached me, but also my father, my mother, your secretary, three of your men, and I think, one or two of the upstairs maids. I had not known that you required so much watching, but it is a very popular request."

Elizabeth's gentle laughter filled the morning air. This was the charming Colonel Fitzwilliam that she had met in Kent.

Richard smiled and gestured with his arm. "Shall we ride this way together?"

"With pleasure, sir. With pleasure."

"Now," the Colonel began as they ambled off, "Tell me all about your sister."

Elizabeth's warm laughter filled the air again.

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Lady Charlotte Fitzwilliam's parents had very discerning eyes when it came to matches for their children. When Beauclerk had taken an interest in her sister Catherine, their parents had done all they could to forward the union. They had immediately seen that Aubrey Beauclerk stood a very good chance of one day inheriting the Dukedom. The third Duke was childless and his cousin and heir had never been healthy. Who would have thought that the fourth son of the third son would be the heir? Well, Charlotte's parents had foreseen it. The match was made. Of course, it helped tremendously that Catherine was completely enamored of him. Her sister was now Duchess of St. Albans.

Similarly, Charlotte's parents had seen that young William Fitzwilliam stood an excellent chance of inheriting the entire splendid fortune of his mother's family. His mother's brother, the Marquess of Rockingham, had still been childless. So, Charlotte's parents had forwarded her match, as well. Charlotte had genuinely liked William and she was pleased.

Still, somewhere inside of her, she felt her marriage was missing something. Catherine and Aubrey were always touching each other, whenever they thought no one was looking. Even in a crowded room, he would stand a little behind her. Charlotte knew he was resting his hand on Catherine's back when he did that. And there was something warm that seemed to rise off both of them when they looked at each other. Whatever it was that they had, Charlotte knew she and William did not have it. Sometimes she thought it was a part of life that had just passed her by.

But, she would not dwell on her own marriage. She had other things to consider.

It had taken a long time for her first child to come, nearly thirteen years. Then he was followed closely by his brother, Richard. After that, again nothing.

Charlotte had truly wanted a Cavendish, or at least a Ponsonby, match for her first son. Instead he had married his Wentworth-Fitzwilliam cousin, Mary Dundas.

But now, two beautiful little Cavendish heiresses had come to stay under her own roof. Perhaps she could have that Fitzwilliam-Cavendish match after all.

She had seen Richard looking at Jane. She thought she saw some of that same heat that came from Aubrey when he looked at Catherine. Lady Charlotte adored her younger son. If he could have a Cavendish match and that something extra, Charlotte would do all she could to bring it about.

She rose from her chair. She needed to track down the girls. With Will leaving so suddenly, Charlotte knew that the girls might feel they were imposing if they stayed on at Wentworth. Countess Fitzwilliam wanted to make it perfectly clear to them that they were family. A Cavendish was always welcome and wanted at Wentworth.

And, of course, Richard needed time with Jane.

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As Wentworth House came into view, Bingley tapped on the roof of his carriage. When they had stopped, he climbed out. There, in the valley before him, lay the largest house he had ever seen. _Pemberley, even Chatsworth, is nothing to this! It is enormous. If Caroline ever saw this, she might look at Colonel Fitzwilliam with different eyes! Gracious. How wealthy are the Fitzwilliams? Of course, Jane would be staying in a grand home. She is a Cavendish. She is still a Cavendish. _The happy mood that had been Bingley's companion since he left Scarborough vanished. He felt once again a lowly tradesman's son. He wished he had never suggested this trip.

_"Bingley, you are valuable beyond any peer." _Darcy's words lightened his mood. Bingley felt stronger. _It is just a house._ _Colonel Fitzwilliam's house. The house of Darcy's uncle. _Bingley climbed back into the carriage, tapped on the roof, and they were off again. _It is just a house. A house in which my friends wait for me. A house that may even hold my Jane. Did she travel with Miss Elizabeth? Is she here?_

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Darcy and Fitzwilliam were having a glass of wine in the library. Georgiana, his aunt and Fitzwilliam had greeted him on his arrival. His aunt had looked so relieved to see him. Darcy had felt her pulling strength from him as she clung to his arm. _Of course she is shaken. All of England is shaken._ News of Perceval's assassination had reached his ears when he had stopped earlier to rest the was unsurprised that the three lords had left a daybreak. What else could they have done?

Georgiana was overjoyed to see her brother. She rattled on and on about their guests, the Misses Cavendish. They were both so good, so kind, so pretty. Georgie had followed him to his rooms as he went up to clean up. He had waited, covered in dirt and dust, as she told him all about the Cavendishes, the exotic Mrs. Ramya, the Viscount's new son, her stay at Wentworth and everything else running through her mind. Darcy was pleased to see her so animated. But, she clearly had not been told about Perceval. He understood that they might be trying to protect her, but this was not something that could be hidden. Too much had been hidden from Georgiana and for too long. If she had been less coddled, she might have been able to see through Wickham. Darcy hated to interrupt her cheerful mood, but he did what needed to be done. He was gentle. He was reassuring. He was truthful. Georgiana took it all better than he had dared to hope. She looked at him with slightly hurt eyes.

"Why did no one tell me? Oh, they think me still a child! Thank you brother. Thank you for respecting me enough to tell me."

He kissed her forehead and brought her into the comforting circle of his arms. Remembering his condition, he whispered, "Princess, I am dusty. You will get all dirty."

"Oh, brother. You must change." She kissed him on the cheek and said she would see him at dinner. He looked again into her eyes. _She is alright. Telling her was the right thing to do. _She gave him another kiss and she was gone.

Now, here was Richard. He, too, was rattling on and on. How beautiful Jane Cavendish was, how elegant, how gentle, how kind. Why had Darcy not told him of such an angel? Here, Darcy laughed. Fitzwilliam looked at him with raised eyebrows. "And what is so amusing?"

"Referring to Jane as an angel. You just reminded me of Bingley. That is all."

Richard froze. _Jane was Bingley's angel? Why on earth would Darcy think her a fortune hunter? Why would he interfere with that romance?_ Richard was starting to fume. _How dare Darcy insult Miss Cavendish? How dare Bingley make eyes at my Jane. My Jane? Yes. That is what I am thinking. Oh, mercy. Bingley will be here soon. Does Jane care for him? How could he abandon her? No matter what Darcy might have to say, I would never leave such an angel. Angel. _Fitzwilliam smiled. _Yes. Bingley may have said it too, but she is an angel._

Darcy had nervously watched a whole range of emotions, including anger, play out across Richard's face. Darcy breathed a small sigh of relief when the last thing on Richard's face was a smile.

"So, Miss Cavendish was Bingley's angel? And you thought her a country Miss Bennet and a fortune hunter. Darcy, you are usually more perceptive. And Bingley, is he still after her? Has he returned to her? Does he know who she is? Does she care for him?"

"Slow down, Richard. One question at a time. Yes. She was his angel. Me, I was a fool who saw nothing clearly. And, no. I do not think he has seen her again. He does know who she is. He now thinks she is out of his reach. Miss Bennet, I mean Miss Cavendish, of her feelings now, I know nothing. But last November I believe she really cared for him."

Richard sat down and took a long sip of his wine. Darcy once again watched his face. _Richard is also smitten by Jane Cavendish. Bingley will arrive soon. Charles is still so raw. This cannot be good. Well, they are all grown. I have interfered enough. They can work this out without my help. I hope. I wonder what Elizabeth thinks of all this? _

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Bingley arrived in due course. The Colonel was outwardly his normal, jovial self when he greeted Bingley. The three men spent some time together discussing the certain upheaval that must be London at the moment, wondering if there may be further danger and speculating on who would now take the reins of power.

The Cavendish ladies remained upstairs, but would join them all for dinner. An interesting dinner it would be.

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Lady Fitzwilliam was pleased with her seating arrangements. They were at the small, family table. She had placed Richard at the head, with her daughter-in-law to his right and Jane Cavendish to his left. For herself, she had placed Darcy on her right and Elizabeth on her left. Next to Darcy, that lovely Indian companion of Elizabeth's and next to Elizabeth, Georgiana. Mr. Bingley was between Georgiana and Mary.

When Elizabeth had first entered the parlour, Charlotte had noticed how elegant she looked, even in a flat black gown. _I must inquire as to her modiste_. _I have never seen anyone look so pleasing in a deep mourning gown._ Now, seated next to her at the table, Charlotte thought her more elegant still. Charlotte's Cavendish pride was beaming.

Georgiana was also secretly pleased with the seating. She was very nearly across from her brother and could receive reassurance from him if she needed it. She did not think she would need help, though, not with Miss Elizabeth next to her. Georgiana liked the gentle Miss Jane Cavendish very well, but she felt really comfortable with Miss Elizabeth. There was something about her that was warm and welcoming, but also that felt strong. Georgiana felt safe next to her. Safe enough to even speak.

Darcy had thought himself prepared for this meeting. He could not become tongue-tied. He had a chance to show Elizabeth some of his true self, the parts that had been buried under all that cursed pride. He could not ruin it. And yet, he was unable to speak. There she was, all his hopes and dreams, just across the table.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of worry cross his aunt's face. No one knew what this assassination meant. What it the beginning of a wider attack on the government? Of invasion? Luddite rioting? What was the situation in London? They were far away. News would be slow in coming and her men were headed right into the center of things. Darcy reached out and gave his aunt's hand a reassuring squeeze. She turned her hand and grasped his, clinging to it for a moment. Then she recovered enough to turn and address Elizabeth.

The little interlude also brought Darcy out of himself enough to turn and enter into conversation with Mrs. Ramya, as they had all been instructed to call her. She turned out to be an intelligent and articulate woman. Darcy and Ramya were soon in a quiet, but intense conversation about the history of India and England.

Elizabeth was in light conversation with the Countess, but not one move of Mr. Darcy's escaped her notice. She was surprised when he had quietly given reassurance to Lady Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth had seen just how much Darcy's small squeeze of the Countess's hand had calmed the woman and how intensely she had grasped his hand in return. Her surprise at this strength and sensitivity in Mr. Darcy was followed closely by outright amazement. Proud, aloof Mr. Darcy was engaging Ramya in conversation! Politely and pleasantly.

She was so shocked that she did not notice she had dropped her conversation with the Countess. Suddenly, Darcy looked straight at Elizabeth. She was frozen by the intense look in his deep blue eyes.

Elizabeth, blushing, dropped her eyes to her lap and the moment was broken.

The Countess made a comment to something Ramya had said. While her hostess was engaged with Darcy and Ramya, Elizabeth turned her attention to the shy Georgiana. For the rest of dinner, conversation continued in a quiet and easy manner at this end of the table.

However, no one had missed the look that had passed between Elizabeth and Darcy.

Not Georgiana. _Oh, my dear brother. Has he finally fallen in love? Miss Elizabeth would make such a sister!_

Not the Countess. _Well, well nephew. What do we have here? A Cavendish-Darcy match would also be lovely. And it would so infuriate Lady Catherine!_

Not Colonel Fitzwilliam. _I was right. I believe Darcy is in love._

And not Ramya. _Elizabeth, what have you not confided to me? You have said nothing about Mr. Darcy. Clearly there is some history here._

Only the good Colonel's efforts were keeping any kind of conversation going at the other end of the table. His sister in law was her normal, taciturn self. Ordinarily, the happy Bingley would have engaged even her in conversation. Tonight, though, Bingley spoke almost not at all. Jane Cavendish was also very quiet. She responded politely when spoken to, but seemed to prefer keeping her eyes on her plate. The Colonel noted, with some satisfaction, that she never once looked at Bingley. She looked at Mary when addressing a line or two to her and Jane looked at Richard now and then. When she did, her look was warm and gentle. Richard's heart soared.

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Elizabeth went to bed with her head full of Mr. Darcy. How was she to reconcile the man she had seen today with the man she had known in Meryton and Kent? And on top of all this, there was the praise from Will, something not to be taken lightly. Elizabeth could not fit the pieces together in her mind.

And where were all these odd, almost breathless feelings coming from? Here, Elizabeth could only be honest with herself. She had felt that same lightness in her chest the first time she had seen him. She had never before been almost dizzy from laying eyes on a man. But his arrogant behavior and his insult to her had quickly extinguished those feelings. But, even then, she had not failed to notice his strong elegant hands or the broad stretch of his shoulders. He was a very handsome man.

_Oh, for goodness sake. How can I even think of such things? And it does not matter if he is a better man than I thought. His arrogance and disdain still have to be a deep part of his nature, whatever Will has to say. I shall put him from my mind. There is no future in thinking of him anyway. Such a proud man would never connect himself with such a disgraced woman. If he thought my family beneath him before, the truth would send him fleeing to the hills._

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Messengers came and went from Wentworth at an alarming rate. There were messengers from town, from other owned estates, from local concerns and from families. And, mail had finally begun to arrive from Purvis Lodge. All their correspondence was addressed care of Higginbotham and Smith, but their private messenger knew to bring it straight to Jane and Elizabeth.

When the first letters from Purvis Lodge came, Elizabeth set her mother's aside, opened. There would be nothing but vitriol in there. She read Mary's letter. Schooling with the governess was fine, but Mary really wanted, if at all possible, to leave Purvis Lodge. She had never meant much to her mother, had little in common with Kitty or Lydia and felt keenly alone with Jane gone. Waves of guilt and of sympathy washed over Elizabeth. How could they introduce Mary to the ton? She would have to discuss it with Will and Aunt Amelia. In the meantime, surely Mary could join them at one of the estates for a while this summer. Or could she? The name Cavendish would be everywhere. Mary did not need to be burdened with the knowledge of why she was not called Cavendish, the knowledge of her natural father. How was Elizabeth to explain things to her? Maybe it was time to just find her a school. Kitty and Lydia, too. If they would go. Mary, though, deserved a place that was not shared by her sisters. Elizabeth would set Blevins to looking for schools. The further they were from Meryton and London, the better. Will might scowl at paying for it, but Elizabeth thought she could bring him around.

Despite the impropriety of it all, the militia was still calling on the Bennet ladies. Mary and the companions had tried to stop it, but Fanny would hear nothing about it.

Elizabeth sighed and picked up the letter from Mrs. Hill. It was exactly as Elizabeth had expected. Both Lydia and Fanny were furious at having a companion at their sides wherever they went. The ladies were all dressing in full black, thank goodness. But Mrs. Hill heard much grumbling about it and did not know how long it would continue. Mr. and Mrs. Collins were about to take up residence at Longbourn and Mrs. Bennet was loud and long about that, too. Miss Kitty was more subdued than normal and was spending less time with Miss Lydia. Miss Lydia had taken to spending most of her days with Colonel Foster's young wife, of whom Mrs. Hill could not approve.

It suddenly occurred to Elizabeth that Jane may have also received a letter from their mother. This frightened Elizabeth. Fanny would not be kind. Elizabeth hurried off to Jane's room, knocked softly on the door, heard no answer, but gently opened it anyway. Jane and Ramya were sitting on the edge of the bed. A sobbing Jane was wrapped in Ramya's arms. Ramya looked at Elizabeth and slowly shook her head. Elizabeth backed out of the room and quietly closed the door. She went back to her own room and burned, unopened, her mother's letter.

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In spite of all this correspondence, the days did pass fairly quietly. Will must have left a letter for Mr. Darcy because he approached Elizabeth on the day after his arrival and meetings began the next day. Darcy, Elizabeth, young Blevins and Ramya spent about two hours each morning going over the books and plans for Elizabeth's Darlington estate. Elizabeth was truly grateful for Mr. Darcy's help here. Blevins was a secretary, not a steward. Even though Elizabeth had a lot of training in estates from Will, it was not the same as looking over one's own property. Not to mention that this estate was considerably larger than, and took its income from different areas than did, Longbourn. She would really have to deal with this estate in only a few days. Already, Mr. Darcy had helped her improve her communications with Darlington in advance of her arrival.

Yet again, Elizabeth had been amazed at the respectful attitude shown by Mr. Darcy to both Ramya and Blevins.

As time went on, Elizabeth could not help but notice that how much everyone at Wentworth seemed to rely on Mr. Darcy. The Countess and his sister were not the only ones who received reassurance from him. The butler, the steward, the footmen, even gardeners and stable men would approach him. After some whispered conversation, the servants would leave with a little more spring in their steps, their shoulders a little more square.

Aside from required business, Elizabeth, and Jane, too, spent as much time from company as possible. Elizabeth tried very hard to take her morning rides and her afternoon walks when there was the least danger of someone joining her. Jane walked outside only a little each day, and usually in the company of Georgiana and Mrs. Ramya. Occasionally, some of the men managed to join them. Every two days, Jane and Elizabeth would join the family for dinner. For the most part, the Cavendish sisters remained upstairs, as befitted their state of mourning. However, Georgiana and Lady Fitzwilliam were often with them, quietly reading or sewing.

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**Wentworth House, May 21, 1812**

Time at Wentworth was almost gone. Travel to Darlington was upon them. The three gentlemen would escort the ladies starting on the morrow. It should be two easy days of traveling. Bingley and Fitzwilliam would travel on to Bingley's mine the next Monday or Tuesday.

This morning, Bingley and Fitzwilliam had ridden out to investigate the mine that the Earl was starting on Wentworth grounds. Both men thought it a fine thing to see and understand before they visited Bingley's Felling Mine.

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Darcy had seen Elizabeth go out riding and set out to find her. He first saw her horse, grazing comfortably beside a small wood. Dismounting, he left his horse to also graze and followed the sounds of gentle crying. She sat on the ground, against a tree, head on her knees, lost in her grief.

Darcy approached softly and sat down beside her. She startled and looked up. He handed her a handkerchief.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive. I lost my own excellent father five years ago. I still feel it."

Drying her eyes, she looked at him and asked, "What was he like, your father?" _Elizabeth! How can you ask such a personal question?_

But Mr. Darcy did not seem to mind. He looked thoughtfully off into the woods for a few moments before answering.

"I think he was two men. One before my mother died and one after. She died shortly after Georgiana was born. You did meet my uncle the Earl?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"My mother was a good deal like her brother. Very kind, very warm and open. When she passed it was like the light had gone out at Pemberley. I do not think my father ever found any light again. Oh, he remained a good man, a good master. But the gentleness, the warmth in him was only ever seen again by Georgiana. She is the image of my mother."

Darcy paused for a few moments. "I do not mean to imply that he was unkind or uncaring of me. That would certainly be untrue. It is just that... Well, it was never the same."

Elizabeth looked over at him as he stared off into the trees. _You must have been a boy. Bathed in love and light and then suddenly alone in the cold._

A place in her heart cracked open for this man.

"And yet, you still miss him very much?"

"Every day, Miss Elizabeth. I miss him every day."

That brought Elizabeth's mind back to her own raw grief and, head back to her knees, she began to cry again.

Darcy wanted to pull her into his arms, to comfort her, to let her cry against his chest. He knew he could do nothing of the sort, so he sat quietly until she came back a little to her surroundings.

"I am afraid I do not have another handkerchief, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth answered with something between a laugh and a sob.

Darcy decided to add a little levity. "Believe it or not, Miss Elizabeth, Lady Catherine also possesses many of the traits of my mother and my uncle. I realize she comes off as officious and arrogant." Here he paused for a second and gave her an embarrassed smile. "But she is a heart a good woman."

To Darcy's surprise, Elizabeth nodded in serious agreement. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I felt that from her, too." Elizabeth wondered if he had tried to tell her this before. She remembered their walks in Kent. Had not Mr. Darcy spoken of Elizabeth's not fully understanding the situation at Rosings?

Darcy looked at her in a little bit of awe. _Why should I be surprised? She saw me as I_ _was. Why should she not see the truth in Lady Catherine?_

_Well, he has brought up the subject of arrogance. I will not let the moment pass._ "Mr. Darcy. I owe you an apology for all my harsh words at Hunsford."

"You owe me an apology? Oh, no Elizabeth. What did you say of me that I did not deserve? My behavior at the time was unpardonable. Mr. Bingley has also called me to task. I am grateful to you both. You have brought me back toward the man I want to be, the man I used to be. Please do not apologize. You have done me the greatest of services."

He was so contrite, so sincere. She certainly was not going to point out that he had just unconsciously used her Christian name. "You are too generous, sir. My behavior deserves the sincerest reproof. But, perhaps we should not examine too closely the actions of either of us that day."

She smiled up at him and was rewarded with a broad, bright smile.

"May I escort you back to the house, Miss Elizabeth?"

"With pleasure, sir. But, oh. I must look a fright."

She was tousled, with her loose hair spread all around, her habit crumpled from sitting on the ground and her cheeks stained with tears. _No. You have never looked more beautiful. _

Elizabeth pulled her hair back behind her head and tied it with her ribbon. She wiped her face and reached to pick up her discarded crop and gloves. Mr. Darcy stood and reached out with his hand to help her to her feet. His gloves had also been removed as they sat talking. Suddenly her bare hand was surrounded by his. Flesh on flesh. The shock that ran through her almost made her pull her hand back. However, he had it firmly enclosed in his and he pulled her to standing.

They were suspended in time for a moment, looking into each other's eyes. Elizabeth, blushing, dropped her eyes to the ground and took a step back. Darcy released her hand and cleared his throat.

"Now, Miss Elizabeth. I have seen you ride before. What would you prefer? A gently ambling escort or a good race?"

Elizabeth grinned and headed for her horse. The race was on.

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	16. Part 3, Chapter 1

**Author's notes**:

History is a fascinating place. It can also be a disturbing place. This particular story, its setting in time, and our characters have brought us somewhere ugly today. AND THEREFORE:

**WARNING**. Men and boys die in today's post. There is **no graphic detail **in what I write, but there is the truth of a mine explosion and its aftermath. This is not a pleasant chapter. You do not need to read it if you prefer not to. You can still keep up with the story. Send me a PM and I will happily provide a summary by PM or on the Comments Thread. And, I am limiting today's post to before, during and after the disaster. You won't miss the rest of plot.

If you are still reading, we now need to have a little discussion about explosions.

Most of the time, when we watch something burning, what we are really seeing is some kind of hydrogen and carbon compound (a hydrocarbon) combining with oxygen to give us carbon dioxide, water, and energy. We don't see the carbon dioxide and water because they are colorless and come off as gases in the heat of the reaction.

This is what we see every time we light the burners on our gas stove, use propane or charcoal on the outdoor grill, watch a log burn in the fireplace or see someone use a cigarette lighter.

If you have ever driven by an oil refinery at night, you have seen flames burning off the top of some very tall towers. What you were seeing was the simplest of the hydrocarbon burning reactions: methane combining with oxygen to give us carbon dioxide and water. (And of course, energy.)

Now, it just so happens that this chemical reaction, like all the hydrocarbon burning reactions, requires a push to get it started. Without that push, nothing will happen.

Some hydrocarbons require only a small push, like the spark of a cigarette lighter or the pilot light in your furnace. Others, usually the larger and messier hydrocarbons like wood and coal, require a much larger push.

Anyone who has ever tried to start a charcoal fire in an outdoor grill knows this. You need something like starter fluid to get the charcoal burning. If you don't have starter fluid, you can easily use up that whole box of kitchen matches and still not be able to barbeque your steaks.

Once you give the reactions their little push, they will happily continue on their own. The reason for this is all the energy that is being given off. This energy provides the push for the rest of the material to keep burning.

There is a problem and a blessing hidden in all this. If you have enough of the material gathered in one confined place and you start the reaction, so much energy is given off and _so quickly_, that what you get, instead of a nice fire, is an explosion.

The blessing part can be clearly seen every time you get in your car and drive. Your car engine operates using _controlled explosions _of a hydrocarbon. The car lets a small amount of gasoline into a closed vessel, together with some oxygen from the air. Then it adds a spark, and boom. An explosion pushes the piston and off you go.

All the hydrocarbons we use everyday will react like this _given the right conditions, _even pesky, hard to burn charcoal. All these things can explode.

Coal is actually a mixture of several hydrocarbons, along with assorted other things. Normally a lump of coal will just burn for you and will not explode. However, if you make it into lots of coal dust floating in the air with oxygen and if you have a nice closed environment, like a room in an underground mine, then all you have to do is add a big enough flame to set off the reaction.

Explosion guaranteed.

Unfortunately, coal deposits give off gases the miners call firedamp. Firedamp is mostly methane gas. Methane burns easily, can explode itself, and certainly gives us a flame large enough to start the coal explosion.

To make matters worse, coal ore often contains pockets of trapped hydrogen gas. Break into one of those and you can get a large explosion even without the coal dust.

Now, most unfortunately, in 1812 there were no electric lights. Miners used lanterns. Yes, lanterns with flames. Once coal mining began in earnest, _it was only a matter of time _before the right conditions for a big explosion were in place.

England's introduction to this problem happened at the Felling Mine on May 25, 1812.

Most of the events described below, fictionalized though they are for our story, are based on a contemporary account of what occurred. There was an organization called 'The Liverpool Religious Tract Society' and someone wrote, for one of their pamphlets, an article titled 'Narrative of a Dreadful Occurrence at Felling Colliery (Nr. Durham) 25th May 1812.' This pamphlet was preserved by a Mr. Ian Winstanley and his family and was provided to Mr. Fionn Taylor for his website .uk. Site: .

**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 1**

**Felling Mine, May 25, 1812**

Robbie Hutchinson was a trapper. He was very proud of his job. Everyday he kept the right doors opened or closed, so the air would flow through the mine. If the men did not have good, clean air, they could not work.

Robbie was also very happy that he worked for these mine owners and not for some of the others nearby. Except for a small accident where two men had been slightly burned, his mine was safe. They did not have the troubles that Robbie had heard about in other places. All of the men here bragged about their mine. It was orderly, the men were well cared for, and the air was clean. "_I do that_," thought Robbie happily.

Today, he was working in the old pit, the John Pit. It was not as busy or crowded as the William Pit. As he was being lowered down the shaft, he smiled about that, too. His friends John Knox and George Ridley had been on the foreshift in this pit and Robbie would get to see them.

Robert and John Harrison were riding down in the same cage as Robbie. They never said much to him. They were a little older and they had airs. Their father was the Horse Keeper. Still Robbie was glad to see them. They were both wagon drivers, just like his friend George. This meant that George would get relieved right away. For sure, George would be able to spend a few minutes with Robbie and John before those two went back up.

The Harrison boys moved off into the mine at a faster rate than Robbie did. Robbie was checking the doors as he went. After he made his way through some tunnels, he finally saw John and George waiting for him. The Harrisons were further down the tunnel, having already taken custody of George's wagon.

Just as Robbie reached John and George, there was a thunderous noise, the floor shook and Robbie saw, with shock, that a huge ball of fire was racing toward the Harrison boys and the wagon. Robbie was horrified as it engulfed them. Then survival took over and Robbie and his two friends dropped to the floor, hands over their heads.

It was just before 11:30 in the morning. Robbie, John and George were all eleven years old.

The rumble under his feet and the noise brought John Brandling, Bingley's partner, running out of his office. He saw a ball of fire erupt from the John Pit. He had no way of knowing at the time that this was the second ball of fire from that pit. Almost immediately, there was a huge eruption out of the William Pit, followed by burning wood, coal and debris falling everywhere. A huge black plume was rising into the sky.

Brandling was about to run toward the shafts when he thought, _"Good Lord. I will need help. Bingley is nearby." _Brandling raced back into his office, fired off an express to Bingley, and grabbed a man to ride, now, to Darlington.

Below ground, some 29 men and boys in side chambers of the John Pit, were alive. They made their way toward the shaft. As they drew closer to it, they picked up the bodies of the two Harrison boys. A little further on, they picked up the badly burned, but still living, Robbie, John and George.

By the time is was 12:00, the thirty-two living and the two dead had been brought up out of the mine.

**Darlington, May 25, 1812**

When Jane inquired as to the whereabouts of her sister, she learned that Elizabeth and Ramya were in the main drawing room_. Well, I have not been down since our arrival. I should join them. _

Jane had not been in the drawing room for more than five minutes before the ladies were joined by Bingley and the Colonel.

Elizabeth was not amused. She wondered if the men were bribing someone to let them know when Jane was out of her rooms. Yet, part of Elizabeth was pleased to see the Colonel's interest in Jane. _Let Mr. Bingley take that! _Elizabeth was still fuming about his abandonment of Jane, with no word, for such a long time. Yes, Jane had told him that she was not sure how the family would receive his suit. But was that enough reason for him to completely disappear? With no explanation to Jane? If he thought it was, Elizabeth felt Jane would be much better off with someone else. Especially now. Jane was crushed. Her world ripped asunder. Jane needed someone on whom she could depend.

Elizabeth, though, had not been asked her opinion and, so far, had said nothing. Jane, on her own, was keeping her distance from Mr. Bingley. She was properly polite, but that was all. There was no knowing how she might feel, in the future, about the Colonel. Elizabeth could tell the Jane approved of him, but Jane was in no condition for more right now.

In spite of showing up whenever Jane was around, at least both men had been keeping a certain distance, respecting Jane's mourning. Elizabeth was ever ready to intervene if they did not. She would send them both packing.

There was a commotion in the front hall. Mrs. Pennycuff frowned. She and Mr. Pennycuff had lived here for nigh on five years now. It was a quiet place. She took care of the house and Mr. Pennycuff took care of the estate. They did a good job and there had been no real bother until now.

The new mistress seemed a decent sort. So far, she was not taken to giving too many orders. She was also not one of those spoiled little things that just made trouble. But still! What a party she had arrived with! Well, Pennycuff supposed that the ladies and gentlemen were all right, especially that Colonel and Mr. Darcy. But those valets had their noses in the air. And those uppity lady maids. Not to mention the servants quarters were overrun with all those footmen and the stables with what looked like a small army.

Mrs. Pennycuff had to hire a lot of people from the village just to cook and clean for this crew.

She blessed that Colonel Fitzwilliam, though. She had seen some of those soldier-like fellows leering at the girls from the village. Just when she was about to march over and give them what for, the Colonel had done just that. Mrs. Pennycuff had stayed just out of sight to listen. She chuckled to herself. "String them up by their pegos," the Colonel had said.

Mrs. Pennycuff still warned the girls and told them to come straight to her if any of the men got out of line.

And now, something else. She hurried off to the main hall to see what the new fuss was.

It was a rider. He was white as a sheet. Thank goodness that Mr. Darcy had also come into the hall. He would take care of whatever it was.

Sure enough, he took a message from the man and assured him that he would take it straight to Mr. Bingley. Then Mr. Darcy asked her and a footman to take the rider to the kitchens and care for him. Once the man had a few sips of ale and got his face back, what a horror he had to tell.

Darcy brought the express to Bingley in the drawing room. No one, except Darcy, who had seen the condition of the rider, paid much attention until Bingley turned white and dropped the express to the floor.

Darcy picked up the paper. "Bingley, may I?" Charles nodded yes.

All eyes were now on Darcy. What had happened? Was one of Mr. Bingley's sisters hurt or ill?

Darcy looked at the Colonel. "There has been a tremendous explosion at Bingley's mine. They are asking Bingley to come at once. We should go too. They will need much help."

Elizabeth immediately said, "Oh, there will be many burned. Ramya, we must go, too."

"I do not ride. I will have to take a carriage."

"Well, I ride and you have taught me what to do."

"Miss Elizabeth," interrupted the Colonel. "It will be no place for a lady."

Elizabeth looked seriously at the Colonel. "Sir, it is the only place a lady could be. We must care for the wounded." Turning to her companion, she said, "Ramya, will you load my saddle bags with what I need? Jane, yours too?" Elizabeth looked over at her sister in question. Jane nodded.

Darcy spoke out this time. "Miss Elizabeth, I know you ride as well as we do. However, we will be traveling too quickly for a lady on a side saddle."

Jane blushed furiously, but she found her voice. "It is alright, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth has taught me. I will not slow you down. I, too, can ride astride. You will need me. There may be many injured. I also know how to care for burns."

It was the longest set of words the men had heard Jane speak since they first came to Wentworth and the strength in her voice was something they had never heard before. They were only able to nod.

"We need to change, Jane. Ramya, after our saddle bags are packed, get help gathering whatever more you think we might need. Get Bellis to prepare some men to go with you. Come as quickly as you can."

In less than twenty minutes, the first group was gathering in the yard to ride. Bellis and two men were saddled up to go with them.

Darcy turned to the still ashen Bingley and whispered, "Can you ride hard, man?"

Bingley nodded and mounted his horse.

The Colonel led. He had mapped out this route already. He and Bingley had been scheduled to make this trip tomorrow.

**Felling, May 25, 1812**

When they were still a mile or two outside Felling, the ground began to darken and their horses kicked up small clouds of black dust.

All eight riders unconsciously slowed to a trot as they passed through the village. There were no people anywhere. It was like a ghost town. A ghost town covered in a thick layer of black. They did not know that a westerly wind had come up about an hour ago. It had blown away most of the thick cloud of debris. Prior to the wind, the sun had been almost blacked out and day turned to into twilight.

Noise steadily increased as they rode up toward the mine. Hundreds of people were gathered. Some distance from the crowd, they saw the smoldering remnants of what had to have once been a crane and the headframe of a mine shaft. Both were partially hidden by the black smoke that still billowed from the ground. There was more smoldering wood, and what looked to be an intact crane, near the crowd.

Dismounting, Darcy immediately made for a man that was a little better dressed than most. Elizabeth, Richard, Jane and Bellis were right behind him. Bingley was still in his saddle, frozen in place by the moaning and wailing, the crying, the destruction.

It was Elizabeth who spoke first to the man. "Where are the wounded?" The man stared at her blankly. She laid her hand on the man's arm and looked gently into his eyes. "Sir, where are the wounded?" The man blinked and then pointed to a building nearby.

Elizabeth turned to Bellis. "Please have Jane's and my saddle bags brought to us." Elizabeth and Jane headed off for the building.

"Are there men still trapped?' asked Darcy. He and Richard looked for a few moments at the dazed, silent man in front of them.

"Come Richard. We will question someone from the crowd."

One of the women seemed to have her senses.

"Are there men still trapped?"

"Most likely all dead," she answered flatly.

"Has anyone gone down to see?"

"Tried a couple of hours back. Nine men went down." She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up at Darcy. "There was another explosion. Four of 'em got burned, but theys all got out."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "I am going to try to move people back. It there is another explosion, we do not want to lose anyone else."

Darcy and the woman nodded. Colonel Fitzwilliam, fully military at the moment, went off to move the crowd.

"After the first explosion, did anyone get out?"

"Yes, sir. There was some. Them in the John Pit. Some of them got out."

"How many are still below?"

She looked seriously into Darcy's eyes. "Shift was changin, sir. Most everyone was below. Must be near a hundred souls, men and boys, down there." Her eyes looked off to the black billows coming out of the William Pit.

Darcy made his way over to the William Pit. He was as close to the shaft as he could get. Already it was hard to breathe and he could feel heat. _Dear Lord, please let some more, somehow, be alive._

Fitzwilliam returned to Darcy, shaking his head. "Without an army, that crowd is not moving. Their husbands, fathers and sons are down there."

Darcy nodded. "Richard, some men made it out alive from the pit the crowd is around. I am going to track some of them down, see if there is any way to go down for survivors." Darcy turned his eyes back to the William Pit. "No man can go down this way."

Richard nodded. "I will check on the women, see if they need help with a field hospital."

The men parted ways.

Richard saw Jane sitting on the steps of what turned out to be the offices of the mine. She did not notice his approach and he crouched down in front of her. She was dazed and tears were running down her cheeks. She still did not seem to notice that Richard was there.

He very gently took her chin in one hand and tilted her face up until she met his eyes.

"Miss Cavendish, are you all right?"

Jane nodded. "Forgive me. I am sorry. I was a little faint. A boy... burns." She swallowed a sob and turned her eyes downward.

Richard tenderly used his thumb to wipe tears from her cheeks, then he reached for both her hands. "Miss Cavendish, look at me."

Jane looked up into his strong face and his warm brown eyes. "Sit here a little while and recover. Then, if you can at all bear it, I am sure that Miss Elizabeth needs you inside. This is a bad situation. These people need our help."

Jane stared at him. After a few moments, she seemed to square her shoulders a little and she nodded.

"Good girl." Richard gave her hands a gentle squeeze before letting go, rising and heading into the building.

Inside the building, Richard found Elizabeth, and what must have been the local apothecary, caring for about a dozen wounded. Battle-hardened though he was, he still had to steel himself at the sight.

Walking up to where she was giving a small dose of laudanum to a badly burned boy, Richard softly asked "Miss Elizabeth, what do you need?"

Elizabeth kept her eyes on the boy. "Someone to watch for Ramya. We need her here as soon as she arrives. Some more blankets and clean sheets if you can find them. The straw in these mattresses must be torture on these burns. More mattresses. These came from the barracks. The mothers and wives will need a place to sleep tonight."

Finally she looked up at Richard. "Three of these boys are in a bad way. Do you know anyone in Gateshead or Newcastle? They have sent for a physician or surgeon, but none has arrived. Do you know anyone can help?"

"Aye. I know the regimental commander in Newcastle. We will get a physician."

He patted her on the shoulder and strode off to do her bidding.

Bingley had been searching for Brandling and was now headed for the mine office.

He saw, off to the side, a woman sitting on the end of a wagon, staring blankly off into space. He walked toward her. As he grew closer he saw a blanket covering something in the wagon. He walked over and drew the blanket back. The grisly sight that met him sent him staggering a few feet away. Falling down on his knees, he began retching.

Walking back out of the mine office, Richard gave Jane a gentle squeeze on the shoulder as he passed by, but he did not stop. He caught sight of Bingley being ill and went over to him.

"Bingley. Bingley!"

Charles looked up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is my mine, Richard. I am responsible for this."

"Bingley." Richard's voice was gentle but commanding. He spoke as he would to an ill soldier in the field. "Get yourself together, man. Now is not the time. Now we must act. We need mattresses, blankets and clean sheets from the barracks. You get those while I send for a physician."

Bingley stumbled to his feet and looked Richard in the eyes. "What did you say? What do you need?"

Richard put one hand on Bingley's shoulder. "Mattresses, blankets and clean sheets from the barracks."

Charles nodded. "Where do I bring them?"

"The mine office." Richard gestured behind them.

Bingley nodded again and walked away.

Richard looked over at the wagon. He nearly stumbled at what he saw. Collecting himself, he walked over and covered the body once again with the blanket. He held, with both hands, onto the side of the wagon for a moment. Then, he looked over at the woman sitting on the end of the wagon. Walking over to her, he saw that her eyes were blank and her hands were white from gripping the rails so hard. She did not know he was there. Steeling himself once again, he strode away to find a messenger.

Jane could not hear them, but she had watched the whole interaction from where she sat. She stayed there a few minutes longer, an unreadable expression on her face. Then she rose and went inside to help Elizabeth.

Ramya arrived with more men and more supplies. Sometime later, there was nothing for Elizabeth to do for the moment and she went out to get some much needed air. She walked around to the side of the building for a little privacy. But there, striding toward her, was Mr. Darcy.

He was covered in soot. His jacket, cravat, and waistcoat were gone. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his strong forearms. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on his arms. As he got to her, she saw the angry red welt across one of them.

"Mr. Darcy! You are burned. Wait here."

She came back with a pitcher of cool water, some honey and pieces of a clean sheet.

She dropped to the ground. "Sit down here, beside me."

She saw him bristle a little at receiving an order. She raised her eyebrow at him and he capitulated.

"Hold out your arm."

He watched, fascinated, as her gentle hands cleaned his wound, covered it in honey and wrapped it.

Elizabeth looked up at him and saw his soot covered face. Almost in a trance, she dipped a fresh rag into the water. Placing one hand on his jaw to steady his face, she started to clean it with her other hand.

Suddenly, she dropped her hands, her eyes, and the rag.

"Oh, mercy. Mr. Darcy, please forgive me."

This broke Darcy out of the daze he had been in. He reached out to squeeze her trembling hands and softly said, "Miss Cavendish. It is the shock of the situation. You cannot behave normally at such a time. Do not think on it. No one will ever know."

She looked up into his deep blue eyes. "Another of the boys just died." The words tumbled out. "And one more, he will die, too." She dropped her face into her hands and started to sob.

This time, Darcy did not even think about it. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly while her grief and shock poured out.

**Felling Mine, May 26, 1812**

The crowd this morning was much larger and was turning nasty. Men had arrived from all the surrounding mines. They were full of stories about how miners survived explosions. They were also full of blame and reproach for the Felling Mine owners. Of course more could be done to get the men out! Of course men were still alive! Darcy, Bingley and Brandling approached the loudest detractors. Darcy told them of his trip into the John Pit yesterday.

_Darcy could not stand by without at least one more attempt to rescue those below. Two miners, bringing a mill to generate sparks for light, agreed to accompany him. Darcy was holding a lit candle as they were slowly lowered into the pit. As they neared the ground, they felt heat. When they stepped out at the bottom, the candle immediately went out._

_"Choke damp," said one of the miners. "Candles don't work in it." The men had made it only about six yards from the cage, when the sparks from the mill died out as soon as they were made. The man carrying the mill started to falter. Darcy and the other miner quickly helped him back to the shaft. All of them could hardly breathe._

_As they ascended, Darcy knew that no one below could be alive._

The miners that had been the loudest in complaining listened to his story and then looked over at the smoke still pouring out of the William Pit. They quieted.

When Darcy, Bingley and Brandling returned to the porch outside the mining office. Fitzwilliam joined them. He had, upon first seeing the mood of this now gigantic crowd, gone back to mine office to compose and send another express to the regimental commander in Newcastle. They needed some troops here, just in case.

The crowd was still loudly complaining. Brandling, the man most known to them, was addressing them. He was stating that if the men were alive and could be gotten out, no expense would be spared to do so. However, the situation was hopeless. No one could survive down there.

Voices from the crowd began to call out. "Of course there is hope!" "Why not pay someone to go after the men?" "You must try it!"

At this, it was Darcy's clear and commanding voice that rang out. "I have been down there. Men cannot breathe. We could not walk a few yards without faltering. We would pay anything if men that live could be got out. But, NO ONE will bribe any man to go to sure death!"

Nonetheless, over the next 24 hours, two more groups tried to descend. The last group found the air very hot when they were still a third of the way from the shaft floor. They did reach the bottom, but had to ascend immediately. They could not breathe. When this group came up, even though they had been at the bottom only moments, they stank strongly of something that smelled like turpentine. This, more than anything, caused the miners in the crowd to finally give in. There would be no further rescue attempts. No one could be alive.

The mine was sealed off to stop the flow of air and put out the fires below. It would stay sealed for six weeks.

Elizabeth and her party would head back to Darlington early on the morrow. There was nothing more they could do here.

Jane spent the last evening there in quiet conversation with John Hodgson, the local vicar.

**Road to Darlington, May 28, 1812**

Elizabeth rode somewhere near the middle of the caravan. When she had gone outside before departing this morning, her horse was unsaddled and tied to the back of one of the carriages. Elizabeth had turned to Bellis. This would have been his doing. He would want her inside the carriage for the trip, not attracting attention by riding astride. Well, he would just have to live with it today. Elizabeth needed time to think. She could do that better from the back of a horse than she could trapped in a carriage with her upset companions. Bellis gave in, but not without glares of disapproval. Elizabeth did not care. Her bow to propriety today was her large brimmed black hat, tied under her neck by a large black scarf. Her face would be all but invisible. That would have to do.

No one was in a mood for talking. Elizabeth had plenty of solitude for thinking as she rode along. Yesterday she had a long conversation with a boy who worked in the mine. He was known as a monk. He went down into the mine, early in the morning, well before the 4 a.m. shift. He would be wrapped in a wet blanket. It looked almost like a cowl, giving him his name. He carried a long stick with a burning candle tied on the end. His job was to stick that flaming candle into rooms in the mine. Any firedamp that had gathered overnight would flame away. _What a job for a child! What a job for anyone. _

The firedamp seemed to be at the heart of the trouble in the mines. It would flame easily. Elizabeth was sure it was the root of the explosion. Her father had worked long and hard with invisible vapors. Mr. Davy had also. Maybe Davy could work on a safer way for the miners to have light. Open flames and the firedamp were a horror.


	17. Part 3, Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

**1.** First, I want to again thank my wonderful readers, FeliciaHM and JillN. They make my story better, every time. All mistakes are always mine.

**2.** The Felling Mine disaster was eye-opening for a lot of Britain. Until this time, the dangers of mining were largely unknown. The number of dead truly shocked the nation. We will see some advances in safety as our story continues. However, tragically, the loss of life in future mining accidents will make the 92 dead at Felling look like a small number.

**3. **Today, we meet again Lord Frederick Hervey, brother of Bess Foster. Their father, also a Frederick Hervey, comes through history looking like a man I could never respect.

He apparently forced his daughter into her first marriage, the one to the John Foster. Foster's relations were well connected in the church. For Bess' father, the whole marriage was designed to advance his position in the church. He became a bishop before inheriting the earldom.

John Foster comes across as a cruel man, apparently beating his wife and openly bedding a servant. Bess' father ignored her pleas for help with the situation. Bess fled the marriage, leaving behind, not by choice, her two young sons.

The 2008 film, _The Duchess_, starring Keira Knightley and Ralph Fiennes, was a very enjoyable film. (And Ralph Fiennes is certainly a beautiful man.) It did, however, leave the audience with a few false impressions. One of them is that the Duke successfully reunited Bess with her sons. In reality, she did not see them again until they were nearly grown. (And, if I remember correctly, it also showed three sons when there were only two. But that was a beautiful piece of film work, contrasting Bess' all male offspring with Georgiana's female ones.)

Bess' father was a second son. His older brother, Augustus, was the 3rd Earl of Bristol. When Augustus was dying, knowing that he had no legitimate issue and that his brother would become Earl, Augustus worked hard on his will. Apparently Augustus did not like Frederick, either. He tried every maneuver possible to keep Frederick from inheriting the wealth and property of the Earldom. Of course, Augustus' attempts were largely doomed to failure. There was no way to unentail the property of the Earldom.

And, I apologize for the lack of footnotes on this. I have read, over time, a lot of biographies on these people. I do not remember which ones to site. One of these days, I will nose around in the library and try to remedy this.

**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 2**

**Meryton, May 25, 1812**

Philips held in his smiles. Outwardly, he was all sympathy as he patted Wickham on the shoulder. "Better luck next time," he said as another soldier swept the pot, including Wickham's marker, off the table. This was almost too easy.

Philips had kept a careful eye on Wickham. New boots, new walking stick, shiny new silver snuff box, cigars handed generously around. The man spent money faster than any little lordling.

And, best of all, he loved to gamble, especially after he had a couple of pints in him. Every chance Philips got, he bought the first round. Generous Wickham always bought one or two more, put on a tab, of course.

The way Philips saw it, Wickham had to be deeply in debt all over town. However, it was his debts of honor that delighted Philips. Those could not be held at bay any longer. Pay day would be on the first, just after the militia arrived in Brighton. Wickham would have to put up the funds or flee. He would not even be able to collect his pay on Monday. Philips had heard him promise that same money to half a dozen men. There had to be others. They would all be waiting for him with their hands out. No, Wickham could not show up at the pay master's desk. He would have to flee. Wickham would have to follow Philips' plan.

That flight would be Sunday night and it would take Lydia off into the stews of London.

Oh, Philips was prepared for Wickham to visit him tomorrow, just before leaving town. He knew that Wickham would try to save his hide by blackmailing Philips about this Jane and Lydia business. But Wickham had no spine. This game would be played Philips' way or not at all. Wickham had no choice but to play.

_This time, if anyone takes a fall, it will be Wickham and not me. _Philips absently rubbed his ribs. Sometimes he could still feel the pain.

**Clapham Common, February 11, 1795**

Petrie had gone in search of Henry. Not finding him anywhere in the house, he went out back, to the small building where Henry sometimes did his more dangerous work.

As he got there, he heard a sneering voice from inside. "That is right. You will pay me twenty thousand pounds or I will let the whole world know. How would you like that, you sniveling old man? Everyone will know you are a cuckold. They will all know your precious girls have a whore for a mother."

Petrie burst into the room. Henry was shaking, crouched in a corner, trapped by the menacing, leering Philips. Petrie reacted on instinct. He grabbed a nearby bottle and smashed it into Philips' head. The man dropped to the floor.

Henry was in a bad way. "Just a moment, sir. We will get you to the house." Henry did not react.

Petrie bent over Philips. He was breathing. Petrie looked around and grabbed a spool of string. He tied Philips so that he could not escape if he awoke.

Then, he helped Henry up and nearly carrying him, made his way back to the house. He called loudly for Appleby as he helped Henry toward the stairs. Brown, a hulking footman, hurried over and carried Henry the rest of the way to his rooms, a shocked Appleby trailing behind them.

"Appleby, take care of him. He has had a shock."

Petrie turned around to see Riddle standing in the doorway. "Even though I am sure everything will be fine, send for Mr. Henry's physician. There has been an accident in the outside laboratory. Keep everyone inside until we can get it cleaned up. Brown, come with me."

Brown, not quite sure he wanted to go near one of Mr. Henry's accidents, followed Petrie with some trepidation. He was completely surprised to see a tied up man, out cold on the floor of the laboratory.

"If he wakes before I return, make sure he stays here and stays quiet." Brown nodded and wondered what this man had done to poor Mr. Henry. Whatever it was, this creature was not going anywhere until Mr. Petrie got back.

Petrie returned sometime later with two unsavory looking men. Brown looked at the strangers and then at Mr. Petrie.

"Thank you, Brown. Stand guard outside. Not a word of any of this to anyone. And, if you see someone leaving the house, send them back. Tell them it is dangerous until I get the accident cleaned up."

Brown looked quickly from the man on the floor to Petrie's two companions. He did not need any further invitation to get away from what was about to happen. He hurried from the room.

Philips was semi-conscious and moaning. Petrie looked around, found a pitcher of water, and dumped it over Philip's head. Sputtering and cursing, Philips came to.

Petrie let him regain his senses before speaking. Philips oaths and muttering stopped when he was roused enough to take stock of the men looming over him.

Finally, Petrie spoke. "Mr. Philips, these two men are friends of Mr. Henry. I am going back to the house to check on him. In the meantime, these two gentlemen are going to give you a taste of what is in store for you, should you ever try to harm Henry again."

"Wait. Wait! I won't do anything. I take it all back. Wait!"

Petrie stared at Philips. "Just be grateful that I asked them to be careful not to kill you. They will not get that instruction next time."

**Devonshire House, May 25, 1812**

Will stared across the room at the wall of books. There, right there, lay the safe. His fingers were unconsciously running over the key, feeling its every bump and curve.

What had the key out and in Will's hand was not Elizabeth. Her situation still appeared stable. And, for the moment, she was satisfied without any more answers.

No, what worried Will was the fate of Elizabeth's uncle, Gardiner. Will was, the more he thought about it, increasingly sure that Gardiner was a decent man. He had stepped up to do the honorable thing for Elizabeth's mother and sisters. If anything happened, Gardiner would be destroyed by forces beyond his control.

Will, however, knew that he might be able to prevent such an injustice. If only he would stand up and walk over there, Will Cavendish might prevent the ruin of a decent man.

Sighing, Will turned around and picked up a lamp from behind his desk. He lit it. Then he walked over and locked his study door and went to the bookshelves. He removed some volumes and reached in to pull down a lever. The adjacent bookcase swung out, revealing a large iron door.

Will unlocked it, pulled it open, went back to his desk, retrieved the lamp and went inside. There, in the middle of a small room, was a good-sized trunk.

Will walked over to it and set the lamp on a conveniently situated table. Taking in a deep breath, he opened the lid.

The trunk was filled with journals, ledgers and packets of correspondence, those tied into bundles with black ribbons. _My forefathers' sense of humor._

Right on top were two letters, both addressed in what Will knew to be his father's hand. One simply had 'Will' written on it. The other was addressed to The 6th Duke of Devonshire.

Will reached for the letter labeled 'Will.' He carried it back out to his study and sat down close to the fire. He did not know how long he sat there staring at it before he finally broke the seal and opened it.

_My Dearest Son,_

_Forgive me, but I think I know why you have opened the safe and why you are reading this letter._

_Uncle Henry has died and a frightened Edward Gardiner has brought you the letter I left for him._

_You want a way to stop whatever I have set in motion. I cannot allow that. Henry Cavendish was a man to be revered. That he should not have justice is insupportable. There is no information in this safe that will save Gardiner._

_You will know when it is time to open the other letter and to read the contents of the trunk._

_You will know when you have truly become Devonshire._

_William Cavendish_

"Bastard," Will said aloud as he crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire.

Sometime later, he rose, locked everything back up, and closed the bookcase. He then put the key away in its own hiding place. As he unlocked his study door, he again spoke aloud, this time in a whisper. "Forgive us all, Mr. Gardiner."

It would not occur to the Duke, until much, much later, that the safe room had been perfectly clean. Will's father was bedridden nearly a year before his death and he had been dead for almost another year before Will had entered the place. Where was all the dust?

**Purvis Lodge, May 28, 1812**

Mrs. Burnett had adjusted, at least somewhat, to her later hours. It was well past nine when she entered the breakfast room. Still, she would have to learn to sleep a little later in the mornings. Her charge, Miss Lydia Bennet, always slept until almost noon. Then she stayed up most of the night.

Mourning, hah! The only thing that child mourned was the fact that she had to wear black.

Thank goodness Mrs. Burnett had not heard any more of that ridiculous plan to let Miss Lydia go off with Mrs. Foster to Brighton. Just the thought of it made Mrs. Burnett cringe. She had never seen two more silly, improper or flirtatious girls. And one of them was married!

What Lydia would have gotten up to without a companion, Mrs. Burnett did not want to contemplate. Still, she smiled to herself. At least she was getting some pleasure in staying very close to Miss Lydia. She privately enjoyed how it irritated her charge to no end.

Well, only one more day. Mrs. Foster should have left early this morning. Most of the militia had gone already. By this evening, there should be none left. Then, maybe things would quiet, at least as far as danger was concerned. Mrs. Burnett did not believe that Lydia would actually complain less.

The housekeeper appeared at the door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hill."

"Mrs. Burnett. I am surprised to see you back so soon. I did not hear you all return."

"Return?"

Mrs. Hill paled. "Well over an hour ago, Miss Lydia and Mrs. Bennet told me you were waiting in the carriage for them. You were all going into town to say farewell to Mrs. Foster and then visit Mrs. Philips."

Mrs. Burnett froze. For a moment, she tried to come up with an innocent reason for this deceptive behavior. They had really wanted a private farewell with Mrs. Foster? _You know what happened here. Miss Lydia snuck off to join Mrs. Foster. Her mother helped her. Oh, I will strangle them both._

The two women looked at each other. They both knew Lydia was on the road to Brighton.

"Mrs. Hill, will you order a carriage prepared for me? I will also need at least two man servants, in case I am ordered to carry her back. I must write for instructions and then pack myself and my maid for Brighton. Perhaps I can catch them on the road."

A rider left a few minutes later with four expresses for Darlington House.

When Mrs. Burnett's express left for London, it was not alone. There were three more for Devonshire House, one for Cheapside and even two for Darcy House. Mr. Darcy had ordered that a copy of any express also be sent to Darcy House, just in case.

**Darlington, May 28, 1812**

Darcy looked over at the decanter and glass by the fire. He was too tired for even that. Some supper and a bath had let him feel how weary he was.

He slipped off his robe and climbed into bed. In spite of all the horrors of the last few days, he drifted off to sleep with warmth and hope in his heart. His beautiful, strong Elizabeth had let him hold her, had opened to him, in her time of need.

**Darlington, May 29, 1812**

It was just dawn and Bingley was prepared to leave for Scarborough. His carriage was at the door. He knew he should wait and have a conversation with Jane before he departed, but he could not. What, precisely, would he say_? I do not know who I am? I am not worthy of you? Not in any way?_

No. No. It was much better that he just leave. He could not bear to see the contempt in her eyes, the same contempt that Brandling had tried to conceal.

_**Felling, May 25, 1812**_

_Bingley sat in Brandling's drawing room, nursing his fourth scotch. Earlier, he had found some men to help him bring the mattresses and blankets to the mine offices. Bingley had not been able to look at any of the wounded. However, he had seen Jane from the corner of his eye. She was holding and rocking a weeping woman, whispering gently to her._

_Charles could not stay there. How Jane could, he did not know. Using Brandling's earlier invitation, he made his way past the wailing crowd, past the smoke and charred remains of the mine shafts and over to his horse. He made it to the house that Brandling had pointed out earlier, the one of the outskirts of the town._

_His valet had arrived with Mrs. Ramya. Bingley was able to have a bath and put on clean clothing. A cold supper had been set out for anyone who came in. Bingley was not able to eat. _

_He then found himself alone, for hours, in the large echoing rooms of Brandling's house._

_None of the others came. Finally, who knows at what hour, Brandling walked in. Charles rose to meet him, but was a little unsteady on his feet. _

_Brandling, covered in soot and grime, aching in body and heart, had initially been unable to hide his reaction to the immaculately dressed and slightly drunken Bingley._

Bingley came out of his reverie. _No. I cannot face such a look from Jane. I must leave here. I must think. _ He made his way out of his rooms and toward the stairs.

**Meryton, May 29, 1812**

Philips had thought it over carefully. Why settle for one payment? Surely Lord Freddy would also pay for Philips' silence. He wasn't some poor second son anymore. The arrogant bastard was now an earl. He would not want the scandal and he would not want that wife of his to know.

A modest payment, that is what Philips would need to ask for here. Not so much that Freddy would just decide to take his lumps. Maybe Philips should ask for five thousand pounds, just to shock him at first. Then, a quick compromise to two or three thousand. Yes, that might work.

**Darlington, May 29, 1812**

Elizabeth awoke with a broken heart. She had been too tired for her mind to work the night before. There had been an ignored supper, a hot bath, and a massage with Ramya's magic oils. Elizabeth's last memory was Nolet drawing the covers over her.

But, her mind must have worked in her sleep. Somehow, everything from the last few weeks had crystallized inside her. Will had been so right. Mr. Darcy was a very good man. Strong, beyond brave, and, she could no longer doubt, kind. He was also intelligent and well educated. He was in every way the man that would most suit her. And he was so beautiful; his hands, his arms, the strong jaw she had held in her palm, those blue eyes.

When she had finally calmed, that day outside the mine offices, Elizabeth became aware of how firmly but tenderly he held her, how safe and loved she felt in his arms. From time to time, he would gently kiss the top of her head. Then, she slowly became aware of the feel of his powerful muscles and the heat beneath his linen shirt. She had to hold herself back from running her hands over that chest. She had not known it was possible to feel such a way. She must be in love.

And, he was completely lost to her.

_He loves me still. The truth of my mother will break his heart. Oh, how will I bear the look in his eyes? Mama, in your foolishness, how much you have done. _

There was a soft knock on her door.

"Come."

"Lizzy, I am so sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, Jane. Please come in."

Jane did, followed by a servant with a lightly laid breakfast tray. Elizabeth could smell the fresh coffee. The wealth of the Cavendishes and the Greys had allowed this drink to be abundantly available and Jane knew that Elizabeth preferred it to start her day.

As Jane prepared her tea and Elizabeth's coffee, the latter arose and went to refresh herself. When she returned, both sisters were momentarily lost in a clinging, almost desperate hug.

Finally settling themselves, Elizabeth gratefully took a sip of her coffee and Jane gently spoke. "I should like to return to London."

Elizabeth looked up in surprise. During the ride to Darlington, she had decided that she must go to London, but she had expected Jane to want to retire to Chatsworth or Hardwick. Elizabeth waited for her sister to continue speaking.

"I had a long conversation, at Felling, with Vicar Houghton. We found we were of like minds. This tragedy must be brought before all the people. It must not be hidden or forgotten."

Jane's voice held steady, but tears were running slowly down her cheeks. Wiping them away, she said, "Forgive me. I must learn to speak of this without crying. There is much that must be done."

Elizabeth pulled her sister back into her arms. Jane forgot, for a while, that she did not mean to cry.

Elizabeth had sent a footman to find Mr. Darcy and ask him to join her in the library. Propriety, although it felt a strange, false kind of thing on this morning, would be preserved. The doors were wide open and Nolet was reading in a far corner of the room.

Darcy joined Elizabeth and they sat in chairs, separated by a small table.

Not looking directly at him, Elizabeth began. "Thank you, sir, for seeing me so quickly. You have been so good and so kind and now I must ask you for yet more favors."

"Miss Elizabeth, whatever you ask, it is yours."

His deep, rich and soft voice washed over her. Her eyes flew up to meet his. There could be no mistake in his words, his tone, his eyes. _Oh, how much I shall never have!_ Her hands gripped the arms of the chair and she swallowed a sob.

Darcy was stunned by her reaction. _What pain! Does she still despise me? I was so sure..._

Elizabeth forced herself to talk. "Mr. Darcy, I need to go to London. There are men there, one in particular, who may be able to prevent explosions like the one we just saw. I need to get to him, to the Royal Society. I need to help with this awful situation. Jane, too, wishes to go straight to London. She wants everyone to know what happened here, what it is like in the mines."

Darcy nodded. "Of course. Of course. I will take you." He sat back a moment, collecting himself and registering what this would mean.

"And your estates?"

"Yes sir. That is the other favor. Mr. Petrie is gone. There is no one to look after them. But I must go to London. I cannot travel to them as I had intended. But, my people may be in need. You mentioned, one time, your under steward. Do you think, is it possible..."

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth. I will send for him at once. He can start here, at Darlington. It is good training for him, too. He can travel in your stead."

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. Her eyes were still downcast. She found them focused on his hands. They slowly rose up his sleeve. She could see his strong arms in her mind, feel his muscles under her hands.

Her eyes drifted up and met his intense stare. She took in an involuntary breath and flushed.

Darcy's eyes sparkled in triumph. _I was not wrong! She feels it, too! Speak man. Speak!_

"Miss Elizabeth. Elizabeth. I know you have a long period of mourning in front of you. I am truly not a gentleman to speak now. But I must tell you, I must let you know..."

Elizabeth, completely distraught, interrupted him. "Oh, Mr. Darcy. Please do not say it."

He startled and leaned back.

"Oh, sir. There are things you do not, cannot know. My family. I am so unworthy. You were right at Hunsford."

If she had not jumped up and fled the room, if her eyes had still been on him, she would have seen remarkable changes in his face. At first he was totally devastated. She was rejecting him, again. Then, truth flowed through him. _Her mother. Her secrets. She believes I do not know. She thinks I will abandon her when I learn the truth._

Darcy's face was slowly overcome with a happiness that infused every feature. _She does love me. She must. And no, my dear Elizabeth. I was very wrong at Hunsford. You will have to learn to trust me. Nothing, nothing will change the way I feel._

Later in the day, the group easily decided that they would leave on the morrow, even though it meant travel on a Sunday. It was a long trip, four nights on the road. They would make one of those stops at Wentworth.

One of the expresses that went out was to the ladies there. They might want to join in this trip to London. Georgiana might wish to be with her brother. They had been separated for some time now. The Countess and Viscountess may have decided to join their men, who would not be leaving London any time soon. At any rate, a night would be spent there along the way.

**Brighton, May 29, 1812**

Lydia had pouted, without stopping, since Mrs. Burnett caught up with them at the inn last night. Now, however, Brighton was in view. Lydia's expression changed completely. The sea shore, the town and the promise of all those red coats. How could anyone stay sad?

Then she giggled. _I shall enjoy as much as I can for these next two days. After that, I shall be off to Gretna Green! I wish I could see old Burnett's face when she finds out I am gone. And how jealous all my sisters will be when I am Mrs. Wickham!_

Lydia had chosen a room on the side of the house. Its window could be seen neither from the front nor from the stables. Mrs. Foster had objected. Lydia was her dear friend and should certainly take the front room with a splendid vista of the sea.

"Harriet! You know how late I like to sleep! This room is so private. I shall not be disturbed. You are such a dear to look so closely after my comfort. This little room is perfect. I assure you."

Mrs. Foster was still frowning. Lydia soon distracted her with giggling over the handsome officers that they were sure to see this evening.

Inside, Lydia was laughing. What a good joke it all was! How clever she felt! Her darling George had instructed her on just the kind of room to look for.

Still, she was dying to share her plans with Harriet. How they would both laugh! Harriet knew very well that Lydia thought this mourning period ridiculous. Why should she dress in black for a man she had seen only a few times in her life? People would make her wait a whole year to marry her dear George. Nonsense.

But, George was right, especially with that interfering Mrs. Burnett around. Lydia would have to keep everything secret. And, George was sure that Harriet would not hold her tongue.

Lydia pouted. _Well, laughing about this with Harriet is not worth ruining my elopement. Oh, elopement. Gretna Green!_ Her heart fluttered with the romance of it all.

**Wentworth House, May 31, 1812**

Elizabeth sat in her nightgown and robe, on a settee near the fire. Nights in the north were still cool. She was nursing her small brandy.

This comfortable room in this beautiful home needed to be enjoyed, at least a little. They had traveled two days to get here. From here, they faced three more long days on the road before reaching the comforts of London. Lizzy would enjoy a little luxury while she could.

All the house was abed. The Wentworth residents were to travel with them tomorrow. Even the Viscount's new son had been declared old enough and strong enough for the journey. The women were ready to be reunited with their menfolk.

Elizabeth was startled by a click and looked up to see a wall panel opening near the bed.

Even though she knew, had she thought about it, that Will was far away in London, she was expecting him to emerge from that wall. Thousands of past instances, just like this one, led her mind to expect it.

Instead, Mr. Darcy stepped into her room.

Her eyes flew wide and she was momentarily struck dumb. He crossed the room quickly and knelt in front of her. All the time, he was holding one finger against his lips, cautioning her to silence.

"Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. Do not fear. I mean no harm. I must speak with you and I have not been able to find a private moment in these last two days. With more people joining our party tomorrow, my chance would never come. Please, please. I beg you. A few moments of your time?"

Elizabeth, coming out of her shock and seeing the pleading look in his eyes, nodded.

He rose and came to sit beside her, close but not touching.

"Miss Elizabeth, I have a confession to make. Back in Darlington, you fled the room, fearing my reaction to your family."

Pain flashed across Elizabeth's face.

"I know it all, Miss Elizabeth, or at least as much as can be known at present."

Surprise, disbelief and horror racked her.

"Please forgive me. Will and I are friends from childhood. When the contents of your father's will became known, he could not investigate. He had to leave for Derby. Will turned to an old friend, someone he trusted, for help."

Elizabeth's horror was immediately followed by a great wave of anger – at Will. _How could he betray me so? To tell my secrets and to Mr. Darcy of all people!_

Darcy saw and felt her anger. "Please Miss Elizabeth, you must not blame Will. He knew, he knows, nothing of our history. That is, nothing except we met and you loathed me."

This surprised Elizabeth a little out of her anger.

"You must blame me that he said nothing. I am truly at fault here. I agreed to help, but only under the condition that you never know of my involvement. I knew you would not want it, but forgive me again. I could leave neither you nor Will in such need."

Elizabeth's mind was racing, trying to incorporate this new information into the fuzzy history of the past two months. Darcy waited patiently.

Finally, she whispered, "But then, you have known since my father's death. You knew at Felling, at Darlington." Her voice faded off.

"Yes," he replied, now speaking more firmly, with more confidence. "Yes. I knew. And yes. When you fled at Darlington, I was going to again declare for you." His voice now softened. "I know it is too soon. I know we must wait without being together, but I cannot help it. You must know, you must see that I love you. More than ever."

"But, Mr. Darcy!"

Darcy quickly put his finger to his lips and whispered, "Shh."

"But, Mr. Darcy," she repeated in a much lowered voice. "YOU must see that I am ruined by all this. How could you think of attaching yourself to me? The scandal."

He reached out and grasped her hands. "Miss Elizabeth, look at me."

Slowly she raised her eyes to his face and was met by tenderness and, yes! It was almost mirth!

She tried to pull her hands back while saying, "It is not amusing. How can you laugh?"

His face became serious. He did not release her hands, but gave them a gentle squeeze.

"I am sorry. I am not laughing, but there is some humor, some irony here. My name is Fitzwilliam. My mother was a Fitzwilliam."

Lizzy nodded blankly, not at all following his thoughts.

"Miss Elizabeth. Fitzwilliam. It means son of William, but a son from the wrong side of the blankets. My mother's ancestor, my own name sake, was born out of wedlock. I am not condoning your mother's actions, but you must realize the only difference between that first Fitzwilliam and your sisters, is that my ancestor was fathered by a king. So, now the Fitzwilliams carry all the airs and pomp of peers. At least your sisters, by law, are not bastards. The same cannot be said of my namesake."

Elizabeth was completely still. _Is it possible to think of things in such a way?_ The children of the old Duke, and the two Duchesses, floated through her mind. Even now, they were accepted into society.

But then, she shook her head. "Even so, sir, she is my mother. What if her wantonness runs through my blood?"

For a moment, Darcy broke into a wide, satisfied smile. Then he leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. He whispered, "I am praying for it, counting on it, my beautiful Elizabeth."

Elizabeth was speechless, lost somewhere between the sensations in her ear and the meaning of his words.

"Elizabeth," he whispered softly, moving back a little to look in her eyes. "Let me show you. I will not harm you."

He was bending closer, his eyes now fixed on her lips. She closed her eyes. His lips met hers softly, moving slowly, gently. She drew in a quick breath.

"Brandy," he moaned and came close again. He was licking, tasting her lips! Her breathing quickened. Her chest rose and fell. She was almost melting.

Suddenly, his arms were supporting her, pulling her against him. He deepened the kiss. And then, his lips were moving across her jaw, down the side of her neck and onto her shoulder.

It took her a few moments to realize that he had pulled back. When she opened her eyes, his look was full of fire. Again, he moved to her ear and whispered, "You see, Elizabeth, what you called wantonness can really be God's greatest gift to a husband and wife. With my body, I worship thee."

Then his jaw was rubbing her face, his lips just beneath her ear. They traveled down her neck again and then, slowly up her throat. His arms pulled her full against him and he captured her lips again and again.

Suddenly his lips were back at her ear. "Say it, Elizabeth." He was speaking between kisses and licks and nibbles. "Say you will marry me. Promise, when your mourning is over, you will be mine."

His lips were everywhere again, her ear, her neck, her face. His hands were moving on her back. Her breasts, bare and free under her night clothes, were pressed against his chest. She moaned.

"Promise, Elizabeth," he murmured.

"Say it. Say you will marry me." He caught her lips again, deeply.

When he released them, she spoke against his mouth. "I will marry you."

This time, it was Elizabeth who leaned forward to bring their lips together again.

Slowly, he quieted their frenzied kisses. As he pulled back this time, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and he began to stand. She was not ready to support herself, so he leaned her gently against the back of the settee.

"I love you, Elizabeth," he whispered as he stepped back. I know I must wait for you. For now, I must leave. I would not be found here." One last look at her and he turned and made for the wall."

"Mr. Darcy." Her shaky voice caused him to stop and look at her. "How did you find me? Find the passageway?"

He smiled gently. "You forget. This is the home of my cousins. Passages? We tried to find them all. Good night, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."

And then, he was gone.

**St. James Square, June 1, 1812**

Lord Frederick William Hervey, 5th Earl of Bristol since his father's death nine years ago, was leaning back in his desk chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. A letter lay open on his desk. _So, I made a child with Fanny. Catherine Bennet._

Fanny. He would never forget taking a slice of that one. Once Freddy got her started, she was ready for anything. Between Fanny and those little games of intrigue he had played to keep it all secret, Freddy's banishment to Hertfordshire had passed away in a haze of physical and mental pleasure.

Freddy snorted. At the time, he had enjoyed the stratagems of deception almost as much as the affair. Well, apparently he had not been as good as he thought with the intrigue part. That creature Philips knew enough to try blackmail.

Philips was a fool. Seventeen or eighteen years ago, blackmail would have worked. Freddy would have paid whatever he could to keep the old Earl from knowing about another affair. He had been so very close to cutting Freddy off altogether. And later, after Freddy had fallen in love, he would have paid then, too.

But not now. Freddy's wife not only loved him, she knew he had a very wild past. She loved him still. An extra child would not throw her.

Freddy's father had pushed hard for him to marry the Countess de la Marche, an illegitimate daughter of the King of Prussia. But Freddy had already met Elizabeth Upton and he wanted no other. Finally, the old Earl had given in. Freddy and Elizabeth had been happy ever since. The size of their family was testament to how much they adored each other. Elizabeth had already given him four sons and two daughters.

_As a matter of fact, Elizabeth might want us to take care of the girl. I wonder what Catherine is like. She is a young woman now. Is she a wild little thing like her mother was? Is she enough of a Hervey for society? How can I get a look at her?_

Well, first Freddy would take care of Philips and the man's blackmail dreams. Then, Freddy would have a talk with his wife. She would know how to proceed.

**Brighton, June 1, 1812**

Mrs. Burnett woke, a worried frown marring her features. She had gone to sleep thinking something was not right. Her charge was acting oddly. Now, in the middle of the night, she was awake and still worried. She lit a candle and looked at the clock. Two a.m.

Well, there was nothing for it. She had to go and check on Lydia. A few moments later, candle in hand, she was off to Lydia's room.

She quietly opened the door. The light from the candle cast a glow across the empty bed. Lydia was gone.


	18. Part 3, Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**

1. The British Prime Minister, who takes office after Percival's assassination, is Robert Banks Jenkinson, 2nd Earl of Liverpool. We will meet him today.

Back in 1794, he wanted to get married. However, Robert's father would not allow the match. Finally, King George III intervened on Robert's behalf and he was allowed marry in March of 1795. 21

Guess who he married? Louisa Hervey. Yes, the sister of Bess Foster and of the Freddy in our story.

I am not making it up.

2. We will find ourselves, for a short time today, at the Foords Hotel in Filey, England. For most of its long history, Filey was a fishing village. The growth of Scarborough changed all that. The residents of that booming city were desperate for a convenient escape from all the growth and industry. They found the idyllic village of Filey nearby. The first hotel that went up to cater to visitors was the Foords. However, I cheat just a little. It may not have been in use until nearer to 1815. The attractions of this seaside village grew. By the time that Queen Victoria was around, an investor had built a luxury set of housing, called the Royal Crescent. For a hundred years, it was the most fashionable address in the north of England. 22

3. In 1812, Britain was actively interfering in US trade with France, not an unreasonable stance when one considers that Britain was at war with France. They were interfering with everyone's trade with France.

However, on top of this, Britain needed more sailors. It was getting some of them by boarding US Merchant Marine ships and taking any sailors who sounded British. Britain claimed she was capturing deserters who had fled to the US.

OK. Britain wanted their soldiers and sailors back, but those guys were naturalized US citizens now. Sticky situation.

Parliament had meant, for some time, to ease these tensions. Better relations with the new United States were a good idea. However, we know, from our story, that the British Parliament was a tiny bit distracted at the beginning of June 1812.

The situation with the US sat on a back burner for a little too long and, unfortunately, communications took three weeks to cross the ocean. By the time Britain rescinded the orders that were causing most of the trouble, America had already declared war.

21. .org/wiki/Robert_Jenkinson,_2nd_Earl_of_Liverpool

22. ., .uk/en-326957-the-foords-hotel-76-filey

**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 3**

**Brighton, June 1, 1812**

Mrs. Burnett moved inside Lydia's empty room and closed the door behind her. Clothing was strewn everywhere and the window was wide open. Walking over to it, she could see the ends of a ladder.

_Oh, heavens. What folly now?_

She resumed looking around the room and found a note addressed to Harriet. Mrs. Burnett, of course, opened it.

_Wickham! He is a scoundrel for sure. Unless he knows the relationship to the Duke, he will never marry her!_

Burnett's mind was racing. The Duke had been very clear. _Keep them out of trouble. Avoid scandal._

_Very well. I have failed his first command. Let us see about the second._ Damage control was necessary. They must be traced. Whether they were headed to Gretna Green or to London, the road would be the same for some distance. Inquiries could be made along the way.

Burnett first moved to put Lydia's note into her pocket. No, if she took the note, everyone's disappearance would be unexplained.

_Well, I hope the Duke knows how to make him marry her._

Burnett laid the note flat and added some words of her own.

_Forgive me, Colonel and Mrs. Foster. Lydia would not be moved from her intent. I, of course, have gone along for the sake of propriety. I shall attempt to make them see reason and to return her to Purvis Lodge._

_Mrs. Alice Burnett_

She pulled out a new piece of paper and copied the note, word for word. The Duke would want to see it.

There was no time to lose. She grabbed two of Lydia's mourning gowns and a veil. She went off to wake her maid.

In less than half an hour, Mrs. Burnett, her maid dressed as Lydia, her two footmen and her driver were quietly making their way out of the rear of the stables. They had even remembered to remove the ladder.

**Road to London, June 1, 1812**

Darcy was extremely grateful that he had already confessed his involvement in Elizabeth's affairs. If he had not, this would be a very difficult moment. They were stopped for a meal and a change of horses. The Purvis Lodge messenger had just caught up with them. The poor man had gone all the way to Darlington and had been back-tracking, looking for them all along the way.

He had first delivered two envelopes to Elizabeth and then had turned and handed two to Darcy. When she saw that, Elizabeth had frowned. She was obviously displeased that Darcy was receiving messages from her people. If this had been her first knowledge of his involvement, he shuddered to think about her reaction.

Instead of reading his own letters, he found himself watching her face as she read hers. He saw disbelief, anger and then pain. Her eyes flew up to meet his. He tried to look reassuring for her, but her eyes quickly dropped to her lap.

Darcy stepped just outside the private dining room and opened one of his own missives. Fanny Bennet had helped Lydia sneak off to Brighton with Colonel Foster's wife.

Darcy felt fury rise. _Had not that woman done enough already?_ Just as quickly as it came, his anger was gone. His mind had flown to Elizabeth. She would once again think that her mother would drive Darcy away.

He turned and strode back to Elizabeth. "Miss Elizabeth, I see that you have finished eating. Would you care for a short stroll?" Everyone had seen them both receive letters from the same messenger. They were both working on Elizabeth's estate matters. No one would think twice about them leaving to discuss their letters.

When they were outside the inn, Darcy offered his arm. As soon as her glove came to rest on his sleeve, they both felt a jolt. The layers of fabric meant nothing. They were both acutely aware that her hand was resting on his arm.

She started to pull her hand away, but he covered it with his hand.

"Please," he whispered.

Still keeping her eyes down, she nodded and the couple walked off toward the wooded edge of the small town.

Finally she spoke. "Mr. Darcy, when you said you were helping Will, I had no idea that meant spies at Purvis Lodge."

"Miss Elizabeth, please do not be angry. Those of us that love you are just trying to keep an eye on things, trying to find answers for you. Everything, all that has happened, is more than just a shock. You need to get your bearings, to decide how you wish to proceed. Your hand should not be forced by a scandal, not if such a thing can be prevented. Please, trust us to help you."

"Well, in this case, it would appear that Fanny and Lydia have been more clever than all of us."

They walked quietly for a few moments. Elizabeth was gathering her resolve. If she would lose him over what she was about to say, it was better to know it now. His eyes, his courage at Felling, his kindness to all at Wentworth and Darlington, his touch, his shoulders, his kiss, they all floated through her mind.

She felt her legs weaken for a moment. He must have felt something, for he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. That gave her the courage to speak.

"Mr. Darcy, no one knows that you have declared yourself."

_She believes I will abandon her. She does not trust me yet. _ "Your mother nor Lydia can drive me away, Elizabeth."

She stopped, looked up and met his eyes. She almost smiled. "But what I am about to tell you might." She held his eyes and then with a gentle tug on his arm, she started them walking again.

"Mr. Darcy, as a child, I took having two names, two existences, in stride. Children do that, I think. They accept their situations as normal. Now, however, I ache to just let the truth honestly be known."

She looked up at him from the corner of her bonnet. "With your abhorrence of disguise, I am sure you can sympathize."

He flushed in embarrassment at his previous words.

"I am so disturbed by the secrets, the forced dual life, that I just want to let it all out. I feel like inviting Lady Jersey to tea and telling her my story. I am sure it would be all over the ton in a matter of hours."

She stopped and looked up at him. "The only things that stop me are the hearts and the futures of the innocents, my sisters and people like Charlotte Lucas. Even then, I feel, more and more, that I am doing my sisters no favor by hiding the truth. They are separated from Jane, who has always been their rock. They are left in the care of Fanny. Is it in their interests, in any way, to leave them in such a situation? These latest expresses shout at me, tell me to just let them all know the truth."

She paused and looked down.

"Scandal will surely come. Even if I choose to say nothing, there will still be scandal. Fanny will not stop being Fanny. Something will happen. You should escape now. No one knows about us. Your honor is intact. You have suffered much keeping your sister's past quiet. Would you risk her ruin now, by staying attached to me? It is too much to ask of you."

Darcy looked seriously at her for a moment and then took her arm. "Come." He took a little further down the road and then steered her behind a heavy hedge.

He pulled her gently into his arms and placed a light kiss on her forehead. Looking into her eyes, he began to speak, "Elizabeth, I have thought about all this. I will not leave you, come what may. I do not know if truth or secrecy is best. You have time. You do not need to make such a choice today. I am here to listen whenever you want to discuss it. For now, we can just handle things as they arise."

He broke into a gentle smile. "Preventing scandal is probably better than having it, but if a scandal does arise, so be it. We will face it."

Elizabeth was surprised to hear her own thoughts being spoken aloud by Mr. Darcy.

"And I am not afraid for Georgiana. Ramsgate was long ago. No one would believe Wickham now if he tried to spread the tale. Your mother's behavior will not harm my sister. Your sisters' situations must be carefully considered and their futures planned for. I am sure we can figure out ways to protect them. And, I do not believe any scandal will harm you or Jane. And if by chance it does, well, we will handle that, too. You must realize, even by yourself, you are now a very powerful woman. Society will not hold you to the rules it creates for mere mortals."

He paused for a moment and looked deeply into her eyes. "But even if you were simply Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire, it would still be alright. As long as we have each other, we can deal with anything."

He pulled her more firmly against him and leaned in to gently kiss her lips. Then he stepped back, reaching for her hands as he did. Holding them, he looked again into her eyes.

"Let me walk you back to the inn. We have a long engagement in front of us and I must practice good behavior." He smiled brightly at her. "I do not want to make the scandal on my own."

His voice became more serious after he had brought her back to the road. "Elizabeth, you also need to know that there may be more at stake here than your sister's hearts and reputations." He proceeded to tell her of the letter that the old Duke had left for her Uncle Gardiner.

**Devonshire House, June 1, 1812**

"Your Grace, Lord Liverpool is here to see you."

"Thank you, Norris. Please see him in."

Will moved around from his desk to greet his visitor. Unless he was much mistaken, this man would be the new Prime Minister.

"Liverpool."

"Devonshire."

"May I offer you something? Port? Brandy?"

"Make it brandy. I could use one after the last few days."

Will smiled at the older man and poured them both a drink. Will was a little surprised by this visit. The Tory-Whig battle over power was still raging. Despite his position, Will was keeping a low profile. His control of the Dukedom was too new. He had no personal, clear vision of a new government in mind. Without that, he would just let his votes mirror those of a Whig he trusted, Earl Fitzwilliam. Let the men with knowledge fight this one out.

Now, standing before him, was the powerful Tory, who wanted, and would probably get, control. Surely Liverpool was not here to ask for the Duke of Devonshire's backing. The man was more intelligent than that.

Liverpool took a sip of his brandy and smiled in appreciation. "The French are good for this, at least."

After only a small pause, Liverpool spoke. "I am here about the alliance. Perceval was your contact. I am to take his place."

"_In more ways than one,"_ thought Will.

**Gracechurch Street, June 2, 1812**

Edward Gardiner held the express from Purvis Lodge with shaking hands. It had only been five days since the last express that told of Lydia's trip to Brighton.

Of all the ridiculous things. Fanny had truly learned nothing! All the times that she had almost lost everything had not made her any more wise. Their father had been right. Fanny was a fool.

Even without the insult it presented to Henry's memory, sending Lydia to Brighton was beyond foolish. She was a headstrong, silly child who happened to inhabit the body of a woman. To send her to a seaside resort, in the company of soldiers, was to guarantee trouble.

Gardiner looked back at the letter in his hand. He had just not expected trouble so soon. He had been up most of the night after the first express. Madeline had found him, in the early morning hours, staring into the empty fireplace, a dying, sputtering candle beside him. She had lit a new candle and come to sit on his lap.

All he had been keeping from her, the whole story, spilled out. Where his money came from, Fanny's betrayals of Henry, the threatening letter, he told her all. And now Lydia. Scandal was sure to follow.

The husband and wife had talked until the first rays of sun came through the window. It was decided. Business pressures were heavy at the moment. All the time lost due to Henry's death had taken a toll. Nonetheless, Edward would to spend only a week organizing his affairs and then he was off to Brighton. Surely Lydia would not manage a scandal in such a short amount of time.

Now, he held this new express. What would it say?

Madeline came over and laid a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "Come, Edward. Let us go into your study and open it."

Edward had gone straight to Darcy House. The utter despair on the man's face, when told Mr. Darcy was not in London, was enough to move Darcy's butler to offer some hope.

"Sir, we expect Mr. Darcy tomorrow evening. He is on his way to London as we speak."

Some relief came to Gardiner. At least tomorrow evening was only a day and a half away.

**Meryton**, **June 2, 1812**

Philips stepped out onto the street in front of his office. He would leave for London after breakfast tomorrow. His plans were set. He would make sure Wickham and Lydia were where they were supposed to be. Then he would send a street urchin to Devonshire House with his ransom demands. His two soft-hearted nieces would definitely pay. Finally, he would have some money from all this. It would be nearly as sweet as his first revenge on them all. He smiled as he remembered.

_Meryton, October 21, 1795_

_They were all gathered at the Gardiner dinner table, listening to Fanny whine to her father. "Four little girls and I am all alone. I have been so very good. Surely I deserve a little break. A trip to Bath, that would set me up forever."_

_The whole idea had come to Philips in one brilliant flash. Brighton would be better than Bath. Brighton was a training ground for soldiers. Even in this season, there would plenty of them. Philips would put Fanny in the middle of those handsome, young redcoats. He would make sure to feed her alcohol. Her lust would handle the rest. The little tramp would last no time at all._

_And if Philips could keep her there long enough, the fool would surely get with child. It was perfect. He could almost taste the pain of Fanny, that sniveling Henry and the self-righteous Petrie. _

_Over their port, Philips spoke to his father-in-law and now business partner. "Mr. Gardiner, sir." Philips always addressed the proud man so. "I did not want to mention this in front of the ladies, in case you might have some objection. I have been wishing to take my dear wife on holiday. We still have no heir." He paused with a pained expression and looked down. Raising his head again, Philips saw, with satisfaction, the sympathy on the old man's face. "Things are slow for our offices right now. While Bath is a society city and quite expensive, Brighton has many pleasures. We could easily take Mrs. Bennet with us. It is the low season and would be very affordable. We could spend a month there and be back by the first of December. It would give Mrs. Bennet some rest and I am sure the dear sisters would enjoy some time together."_

Philips smiled again. How easily it had all worked! He was sure his new plans would work just as well. For now, he deserved a drink and was off to the Highlander.

The watching men had seen Philips enter the street. This had to be the right man. The plain carriage set in motion and pulled up alongside the jauntily strolling attorney.

"Mr. Philips?" questioned the footman as he sprang from the coach.

Philips looked around the scene. The young footman and the jolly coach driver seemed harmless.

"Yes, young man. What can I do for you?"

"Beggin pardon, sir. My master is new here and we was headed to your offices when you stepped out. He would wish a moment of your time."

Philips was momentarily wary, but the coachman was smiling and the footman looked benign.

The footman opened the coach door and Philips went over to greet the gentleman inside. He suddenly found himself pulled in by strong arms and pushed from behind. The deferential young footman had moved in to block anyone's view of the abduction.

Philips was pinned by several arms and his mouth covered by a strong hand as the carriage set in motion.

Philips was found about three hours later, by one of the local tenants. The Earl of Bristol's men were already nearly back to London.

The poor attorney's arm was badly broken. The pain was excruciating. Philips had passed out when they broke it and he passed out again when the apothecary set it. He would spend the next three days in a laudanum haze.

**Filey, June 2, 1812**

Charles Bingley had indeed gone to Scarborough, but he found he no desire to deal with Caroline's foolishness. So he directed his driver not to stop, but to continue down the coast.

He found himself comfortably ensconced in a charming, modern hotel. He stood at his window, watching the waves crash into the shore. They humbled him, made it easier to come out of his personal misery and look at the larger picture of life.

He should not have fled. _No. I will not engage in recriminations. I know what I must do. I will go and do it. What is in the past cannot be changed._

All these days of thinking, coupled with the perspective brought by the majesty of the ocean, had truly calmed him. He had decided that he would sell his partnership in the mine. Not right now. He was enough of a businessman to know he would lose tens of thousands of pounds if he sold now. No one would want a mine where all those people had just died_. No. No one will want it now because the mining operation is at a total halt until the fires are out and the bodies can be recovered. That is why the partnership will not bring much money now. They will care not for the lost men and boys, only for the lost profits. And that is why I want no part of all this._

Bingley might not be as clever as Darcy, but he was still an intelligent man. He could clearly see that coal was the future of Britain. Great steam engines would power the factories and probably transportation. But Bingley would not keep the mine. He wasn't going to keep his factories, either. Some were already using steam engines and the rest would follow. Bingley would divest himself of any coal related businesses. They may be the way of the future, but Charles was not going to live on income that came at such a price.

He realized, from the point of view of fortune, that his decision was foolish. The things he owned now would be very profitable if kept. He also realized that he did not care. He truly had enough. There was a hundred thousand pounds in the funds. Careful sale of his holdings should raise half again as much.

He would satisfy his father's dreams. Charles would buy an estate and leave the rest of his money in the four percents. He would raise crops and animals. He would make sure his tenants were cared for. He would live a quiet life.

He would release Caroline's dowry to her and let her do as she pleased. She craved the ton and he wanted no further part of it. He did not belong among those people.

He now knew he did not belong among the businessmen, either. He would become a country gentleman.

First though, he had some duties to perform. He smiled to himself as he realized that ridding himself of Caroline would be the easiest one. That one first. He would travel to London, settle Caroline in her new life, and then speak to Jane. He had no hope of a future with her, but he owed her many apologies. Next, he would return to Felling. He would be there and would do his honorable part when they re-opened the mine. He owed that much, at least, to the families of the dead.

**Devonshire House, June 2, 1812**

Mrs. Burnett sat quietly while the Duke paced the floor. She had traced Lydia and Wickham to Clapham, but not beyond. They had disappeared into London. The good Duke had been grateful for her actions, in particular the additions to the note. Those would protect Lydia's reputation, at least in the short run.

Finally, Will returned to his desk and sat down.

"If we install you and your maid, dressed as Lydia, at the Gardiner house, it may give us some options when they are found."

Burnett nodded. The Duke could do all the thinking here. She was very tired.

Will pulled the bell cord and sent for Norris.

"Please send a man over to Edward Gardiner's house, Gracechurch Street in Cheapside. Tell him to expect me and two guests shortly. Say it is urgent that we speak privately."

Norris' face, as always, kept a perfectly serene expression. He bowed and went off to do his master's bidding. Inside, adrenaline and dread were flowing. _Wait. Just__ wait. Do not jump to any conclusions. This does not look good, but maybe it is nothing. Certainly, I have heard no word of scandal yet. Miss Elizabeth, Miss Jane and Mr. Henry's memory may be untouched. There is still hope._

**Road to London, June 3, 1812**

They were all about to depart the last inn. Fitzwilliam would say his farewells here. As soon as they were near home, the Fitzwilliams would separate and go to their own townhouse.

He bid good-bye to the rest of the party and then the Colonel turned to say farewell to Jane. "Miss Cavendish, take good care of yourself." He then picked up her hand, placed a light kiss on her glove, and stepped back.

Jane registered some vague pleasure at his actions, but her mind was somewhere else. The young lady she used to be would have blushed at such an occurrence. This young woman had other things to think about.

**Devonshire House, June 3, 1812**

Will had been pacing the portrait gallery for nearly an hour. Surely, the carriages would arrive soon. It was almost dark.

His heart went out to Elizabeth and Jane. _What more are they to bear? Henry barely cold in his grave, learning of their mother's betrayals, being present at that awful disaster and now Lydia. What a welcome after five hard days on the road. They will be exhausted. Well, tonight they can rest. Tomorrow morning is early enough to add to their burdens._

Will had gathered, and would hold back, the expresses that had arrived for Elizabeth. She would be furious at his presumption. Will smiled. _At least she will have a little rest first. She should be refreshed enough tomorrow to really tear into me._

But Darcy needed to know tonight. Will was sure Darcy would have his own expresses waiting for him at home. Will had a good deal of information to add to those. _Let Darcy have it all. Maybe by tomorrow that brain of his will have some ideas._

**Streets of London, June 3, 1812**

Darcy had ridden horseback after the last stop. His own carriages would take Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley straight to Darcy House, but he would see Elizabeth to Devonshire House before he went home. He would see her safely into Will's hands.

It was dangerous. Will was a perceptive man. Darcy desperately wanted to speak directly to him before his friend noticed the new understanding with Elizabeth. If Darcy was going to break his friend's heart, he at least would be man enough to do it face to face.

Darcy was sure that things would be different if he had known, from their first meeting, that this was the woman that Will was in love with. Even though Will had been clear that Elizabeth rejected him as a suitor, saw him as a brother, the very idea that Will was despondent over her would have put Elizabeth out of the realm of consideration for Darcy.

But things had not happened that way. By the time he found out about Will's love for her, Darcy had already been completely, irrevocably in love with Elizabeth. He had already, admittedly poorly, proposed marriage to her. She had been haunting Darcy's every move for months. Darcy could not give her up, not when she did not love Will.

But, Darcy could not bear Will finding out just from their behavior at parting. If he noticed anything, Darcy would follow Will into Devonshire House and tell him tonight. Darcy would prefer a bath, a change of clothes and some sleep before his confession, but he knew it might not be possible.

**An Alley off Green Street, London June 4, 1812**

Wickham was pacing the floor of the disgusting little room. They had been here two nights and he was still not used to the stench from the Thames.

He completely ignored the mumbling, pouting Lydia who sat on the bed.

It was almost dark. Philips should have been in the bar yesterday!

_Enough! _Here he was, stuck in this God-forsaken place and with all that willing flesh sitting right over there. He was not supposed to touch her. Well, Philips is the one who did not show. Wickham had done his part. He would just make some money himself and leave.

Wickham knew he was now a deserter. He had to leave England. His best chance of marrying a fortune was probably in the Americas. He had heard they loved English manners there. Well, he would need passage, clothing and funds to keep up appearances when he got there.

For the hundredth time, he wished he knew who Philips intended to blackmail. Misses Jane and Elizabeth were rumored to have inherited some money. It must be them. They were also rumored to be here in London. Surely they would pay to get Lydia back. But where were they? The only possibility that Wickham could come up with was that Gardiner fellow, that uncle of theirs. Was he the one in control of the money? Well, even if he wasn't, the old man could get his demands to the Bennet girls. Maybe Gardiner might pay himself.

Wickham looked over at the pouting girl. She was so ripe. He wanted to take her, but if the blackmail failed, she was more valuable as a maid. He could sell her. No. He could do better. Wickham knew a gaming den where she would buy a large stake at the tables. Then, after he won, he could still sell her to one of those worthless little lords.

As a matter of fact, Wickham could even collect the ransom after he had sold her. He could give Gardiner an address to pick her up. Wickham would be off to a port town before they knew Lydia was gone.

Yes. Strike a deal with Gardiner tomorrow morning. Sell the chit tomorrow night. Pick up the ransom the next day and disappear.

For tonight, he needed a little relief. If he was going to keep his hands off Lydia, he needed someone else. A little trip to Mrs. Younge was in order. First, though, he had to placate Lydia.

"Lydia, darling." He moved over and sat by her on the bed. "My most sweet, precious girl. I know this is hard. Bear with me only one more day. My business will be done soon. By Saturday we will be off to Gretna Green."

He continued wooing her until she sent him off with a smile.


	19. Part 3, Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **Once again, WARNING. There is violence that occurs near the end of today's post. This chapter is really long and I don't want you to worry about stumbling into scenes you might not want to read. I will give you another warning, just before we get to the violent parts. As always, it is not graphic.

For today's chapter, I really wanted a nearby archbishop that was related to one of our characters. Alas, my research failed me this time. However, John Randolph, Archbishop of London from 1809 to 1813 was a member of the Privy Council and intimately involved in Liverpool's ascension to power. So, he will do.22

Little Lords Allardt and Burkesville, who will appear today, are totally, completely made up. This time, my research was to make sure these names did not appear in the peerage. While I am sure that there were peers guilty of conduct similar to that of the Allardt and Burkesville in this story, I did not want to cast such aspersions on anyone's real ancestors.

The term 'right hand man' is an old one. Since most people are right-handed, if someone at your dinner table wants to attack you, the one with the greatest chance of doing it successfully is the person sitting to your right. His left arm is next to you, giving his right arm the space and freedom to come at you. All through history, powerful people have let only their most trusted men sit on their right.

**22. .org/wiki/Randolph,_John_(1749-1813)_(DNB00)**

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**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 4**

**Devonshire House, June 3, 1812 **

In the exhaustion following five days of travel, the party disappeared quickly into the house. Darcy's fears of exposure at that moment proved groundless. But, Will whispered for Darcy to remain as the women went off to their rooms.

Will guided Darcy into the study and begged forgiveness for burdening him at such a time.

"Lydia Bennet thinks she has eloped. They have been traced to London, but not beyond. At first I thought it was a blackmail scheme, but so far there is no note."

Will went on to tell Darcy all he knew. Then he said, "Here is a copy of the note that Lydia left behind. You may be surprised at the name of her paramour."

After Darcy read the note, he was furious. _Wickham! Will I never be rid of that man!_ Then, waves of guilt washed over him. _This is my fault. If I had exposed that cad in Meryton, Miss Lydia would be safe._

Will was truly concerned by the anguish on his friend's face. He had been pretty sure that this George Wickham was the same person as the steward's son from Pemberley. Will had not spent a lot of time with him. Unbeknownst to Will, his father had warned George Darcy that the ducal heir should not be a playmate of a steward's son and Mr. Darcy had honored the Duke's wishes. What Will had seen of George Wickham, he had not particularly liked.

"Darcy, Mrs. Burnett did say that Wickham's first name was George. Is it the same George Wickham that I met at Pemberley?"

Pained eyes looked at Will. "I know it to be the same man. This is all my fault."

"Your fault? How can this be your fault?"

"He was in Meryton. I saw him there. I did nothing to warn those good people."

Will was still looking at Darcy in confusion. Sighing, Darcy started talking. His whole long history with Wickham poured out, even Ramsgate. Will was furious. _How dare that scoundrel try to touch little Georgiana!_

Both men sat quietly for a while.

"Has Elizabeth seen this?"

Will grimaced at Darcy's use of her Christian name. _Does that mean anything? What has happened during all these weeks?_

"No, Darcy. After all she and Jane have been through, I felt they needed a night of rest. Tomorrow, Elizabeth is sure to show me her ire at my presumption."

Darcy smiled. That did not make Will feel any better.

"What has been done to find Miss Lydia?"

Will told Darcy about his efforts so far.

"I may be able to succeed here. That Mrs. Younge I spoke of…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Devonshire House, June 4, 1812 **

To Will's surprise, Elizabeth's anger was short-lived. She was certainly intelligent enough to realize that knowing last night would have helped not at all. She was also grateful to have a good night's rest. More than this, she was feeling some guilt. She had known what Wickham was. She also knew her sisters' penchant for redcoats. She should have warned them before she left Meryton.

Jane was visibly disturbed for a while. Then, some of her old nature took hold. She was sorry for such a match, but until it was proven that they had not gone to Gretna Green, she was going to expect the best.

Elizabeth resisted rolling her eyes. Jane soon returned to her rooms and Will was left alone with Elizabeth.

"How are you, little one?"

"In a daze, Wills. Staggering around in a daze. Every time I try to clear my mind, I am hit with something new." Her father's cold, dead body, followed by visions of those poor boys in Felling flashed through her mind. Lydia's folly was almost trivial in comparison. Then, she chastised herself. This would be a big blow to Mary and Kitty and it could be dreadful for Uncle Gardiner.

"Will, do you realize I know Mr. Wickham?"

"Yes. Darcy told me he had been in Meryton."

Lizzy's eyes widened. "When did you speak with Mr. Darcy about this?"

"Last night. Lizzy, there is something that I have to tell you."

She interrupted him. "That Mr. Darcy has been helping you? Do not worry, Will. I understand." She gave a vague wave of her hand, as if to brush off this issue. She was frowning, looking off into space, obviously absorbed by this business of Lydia's.

Now, Will was frightened. This was not a typical reaction of Elizabeth and certainly not the reaction of someone who loathed Darcy_. Something has happened here. They have at least talked very openly._

Lizzy asked more questions and the cousins spent some time in conversation. Will assured her that Lydia and Wickham would be found and made to marry. It was the only solution. Elizabeth could not argue with that.

Finally, Will became too distracted by the number of times Elizabeth brought up Darcy's name and by the gentle way she said it. He made an excuse to leave before he gave in to the temptation of asking her questions. He was almost sure he would not want to know the answers.

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**Darcy House, June 4, 1812**

Darcy had sent his men out to comb the streets for Wickham. His own day had been spent in pursuit of Mrs. Younge. He had found her.

He was now back at home and waiting. The talk he needed to have with Will was laying heavy on his heart. Perhaps he should have confessed all last night, while they were talking about Wickham. It had just seemed wrong to do so. There was a large problem at hand and Darcy knew he needed to work together with Will to solve it. Darcy's love for Elizabeth might well cause a permanent breach between him and Will. Now was not the moment.

Darcy would find a way to talk with Elizabeth. She was tremendously close to Will. They should decide together how to let Will know. Darcy sighed in relief. He should have thought of this long before. He was going to have to change his behavior, his thought processes. He had a partner in his life now.

But, at present, he was not going to be able to talk to either of them. He was stuck here at Darcy House. He had too many people scouring London. He needed to be here if one of them found something. Not to mention Mrs. Younge might give into her greed at any moment and show up on Darcy's doorstep.

He wondered, as he had done again and again, if he had made the correct decision in not watching her house. If Wickham showed up there, Darcy did not want him spooked. George might easily spot a watcher. If he panicked and broke contact with Mrs. Younge, they might never find Lydia.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Devonshire House, June 4, 1812**

After once again pacing the portrait gallery for more than an hour, Will came to a decision. Enough was enough. He was absolutely going to end this bizarre, painful legacy. He needed more information to do that.

He went purposefully to his rooms and rang for both his man and a footman. The valet came first. Will ordered a bath and evening clothes. He sent the footman arrange a cold supper and coffee, to be ready in Will's study in one hour. Then he sat down and wrote a short list of names.

When he was clean, freshly shaven and immaculately dressed, he went downstairs to Norris. "I am going to be in my study. I want two guards at the door, one to keep people out and one to carry out any orders I might give. Be sure to arrange reliefs for the poor men. I may be at it for hours. I do not wish to be disturbed at all, but it may be necessary. Here is a short list of people that I will see if they tell you it is crucial. However, I will come out to see them. No one goes into my study tonight. Everyone, even Miss Elizabeth, goes through you first."

Norris nodded in understanding and took the list from the Duke. When Will turned and strode off to his study, Norris looked at it. Gardiner's name was there. Norris' shoulders slumped.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Will locked the door, opened the safe and carried the trunk out, placing it near his favorite chair. Then he lit and placed enough lamps for good illumination. He looked at the scene and nodded in approval. Walking over to the mirror, Will adjusted all the damage to his appearance caused by his exertions. He examined his reflection carefully. Everything was in place. _"Besides,"_ he told himself, _"this is a skirmish, not the war. Only the things related to Uncle Henry. I will read only the things related to Uncle Henry."_

He slowly and perfectly prepared a cup of coffee and carried it over to his chair. Settling himself comfortably, he took a sip of his coffee and then set it down on the table.

He opened the trunk. He took the letter addressed to the 6th Duke of Devonshire and put it, unopened, beside his coffee on the table.

He was not so fortunate as to avoid everything unrelated. He started by finding his father's journal entries for August, 1796. Uncle Henry had not come to the Duke until late September. So, just in locating the parts about Uncle Henry, it was unavoidable that Will learned some things he did not want to know.

However, much of the information Will wanted must be in these bundles of letters. The drama had played out more than a decade and a half ago, so he started with bundles of letters that looked a little aged, but not too old. He found some of Petrie's missing Longbourn correspondence, but most of it was dated after 1796. He set it aside for now. Then he found the bundle he was looking for. Starting to read, Will smiled to himself. Of course Uncle Henry, with Petrie's help, had put the history in writing before they came to the Duke. Uncle Henry was able to converse in a relaxed and normal way only with Elizabeth. He would never have been able to tell this tale in spoken words. There were also letters and notes from Fanny and her father. And Will's ever efficient father had tied it all into one bundle. Will settled back to continue reading.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Will had put everything, including the unopened letter from his father back in the trunk and locked it all away. He sent poor Norris off to bed, with sincere thanks. The house was quiet. The hour was late. Will went off to the portrait gallery to pace. He needed to put all of this together in his mind.

As he walked, he tried to organize it all chronologically. There was little about Mary's birth, only Henry's words that he had known she was not his, but decided not to act. He was grateful to Fanny and would not separate his own daughters from their mother. Will waved thoughts of Mary away. Darcy and Elizabeth had learned the basics of the story. Will would just have to wonder how Uncle Henry came to the decision he did. In truth, it did not much matter for going forward.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Clapham Common, July 25, 1793**

Henry had been ill, unable to eat, sleep or work. Only Petrie's threats to call in the Duke had made Henry finally start consuming food and taking a glass of wine to help him sleep at night.

Finally, Henry's analytical mind took over. What was already done was simply a fact, one fact of many. What Henry had to do now was to lay out all the facts, weigh each one and see what the result was. He could do that. He did it every day in his work.

First, there was a new baby at Longbourn and it was not his. Fanny had been unfaithful. _She let another man touch her! No. No. Just the facts._

Next, the life he had with Fanny was over. Henry knew he could never lay with her again. The idea that he had already been with her, after another man was there, was repulsive. Fear of disease would alone be enough. But, even without that, Henry knew it was all shattered.

But Fanny had given him so much. All those lonely decades, Henry had only let himself dream, wonder about flesh. He laid in bed, so many nights, wondering how it would feel to touch, to taste, the body of a woman, to bury himself inside her and plant his seed.

Fanny had given him that. She had given freely, wantonly. It was more than Henry ever imagined. If not for Fanny, he would never have known such bliss.

The next fact was even more powerful. At Longbourn, there were two beautiful baby girls. Both were undoubtedly, undeniably, flesh of his flesh. Jane and Elizabeth were gifts the like of which Henry could not have previously understood.

Yes, Henry was deeply grateful to Francis Bennet.

And, Henry admitted to himself, he was an old man. He had selfishly taken to wife a beautiful, young woman, full of high animal spirits. That a man such as he would have been unable to satisfy her should have been expected.

Lastly, Henry had to consider what it would mean to separate his baby girls from their mother. He had keenly felt the absence of his own mother. Henry had wished for her, dreamed of her as a boy. Nay, all his life. He had watched, over the years, many a child rush to its mother's arms for comfort, for love. Those arms were things Henry would never know.

No. He would not, could not take his little girls from their mother.

Surely, nothing like this would ever happen again. The result of a child must have terrified Fanny. No, she would not repeat this mistake.

With all the facts laid out before him, Henry's choice was clear. He would ignore the whole thing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Devonshire House, June 5, 1812 1:00 a.m.**

Will continued to pace. Catherine Bennet. This story was much more clear. The news that Fanny was increasing had first made Uncle Henry ill and then intensely angry. He had instructed Petrie to give Mr. Gardiner a month to remove Fanny and Mary from Longbourn.

Gardiner responded, at first, with a letter. He had approached his daughter. It was all a drunken mistake. Fanny had confessed such pain and guilt. She would never drink again. Gardiner was also insulted and aggrieved that Petrie had cast aspersions on the parentage of Mary. Fanny had only talked about the coming baby. She had mentioned nothing about Mary. Surely Petrie was mistaken here. If not, then Fanny must have been so drunk as to have no memory of it. _My poor, distraught daughter suffers so much. I could not even bring up Mary. Such a thing would have finished destroying the loving, gentle creature that is my Fanny._

Then, there had ensued a steady, relentless storm of guilt, begging and manipulation from Gardiner and Fanny. No effort to move Henry's heart was left untouched. Will sighed as he remembered Petrie's notes and Fanny's letters.

Gardiner and his daughter had played Henry from every angle. They both insisted, over and over, that is was all a drunken mistake. It was the alcohol and all of Fanny's loneliness. Henry was, of course, to blame for the latter.

Will now knew, as Henry could not have at the time, that the one time mistake part was a lie, at least with respect to Catherine. Petrie had left a meticulous account of Philips' confession, the one he had made after Petrie's men had loosened up his tongue. Will knew that Fanny had carried on a torrid affair with Frederick Hervey, one of nearly two months duration.

But, again, Uncle Henry could not have known. Philips' attempted blackmail had come after the birth of Miss Catherine, after Henry had relented. Petrie could not bear to further disturb Henry with the ugly truth. Just the blackmail attempt alone had been enough to almost destroy Henry.

Fanny's letters had been persuasive. She was so sorry. She would never drink again. How dearly she loved Henry, how much he was missed. Would he not please come home? And the woman had written much of her devotion to and care for Henry's daughters. Oh, how she adored them and how much they needed their mother. Will felt this would have, more than the rest, caused Uncle Henry to falter in his intent.

Old Gardiner had come to Clapham Common, at least every two days, bringing new letters from Fanny and new guarantees to Henry that such a thing would never happen again. Gardiner swore, with God as his witness, that, if anything like this ever happened again, he would take care of Fanny and those mistakes when Henry was gone. Gardiner swore they would become his responsibility.

In spite of Petrie's efforts to run interference, Henry had caved. Fanny could remain at Longbourn. Henry would not throw her out.

Then came Lydia. Fanny's subsequent cunning and attempted duplicity were felt keenly by Will. He could not even imagine how poor, innocent Uncle Henry must have felt.

At the beginning of December, 1795, Fanny had begun a campaign to seduce Henry. Will's uncle had been delayed in his trip to Longbourn that year, but he was in residence by the time Fanny returned from Brighton. She had sent Henry several notes each day. Will blushed as he remembered how explicit they had become.

The next information about this came from Uncle Henry's writing. He had retired to his darkened chambers, climbed into bed and found himself embraced by a naked Fanny. Henry confessed that he was in the processing of succumbing when he saw her face. There was only light from the fire, but Henry clearly saw a look not of love or even lust. It was a look of triumph. It was enough to bring Henry back to his senses. He had ordered her out of his rooms. He left for London the next day.

Fanny must have feared herself pregnant and, after all that had previously happened, was desperate to have Henry believe this new baby to be his. Well, she was foiled.

When the pregnancy became known, how Uncle Henry must have felt it. All of Fanny's declarations of love and lust for Henry were nothing more an attempt to trick him. For a heart such as Henry's, with all it had already suffered, this blow would have been severe. Indeed, it had finally sent Henry to Will's father. Even much of Henry's gratitude had not survived it. He had, at long last, cut Fanny from his will. Gardiner could honor his vow to take care of her. However, despite all attempts by Petrie and Will's father, Henry would not throw Fanny out of Longbourn. He was still in debt to her. She was still the mother of his daughters.

Will knew the pregnancy had been kept secret, all the way until Lydia's birth began. How had she done it?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Longbourn, August 1796**

Fanny clutched Nellie's arm.

"Madam, what is it?"

"Oh, Lord. It is a pain! Pack! Get the curricle. We must leave now."

"Give me my money."

"What?"

"Give me my money."

"There is no time for that! We have to leave, you foolish girl! Get something packed!"

Another pain wracked Fanny. When it subsided, Nellie sat, flatly, "My money."

"Oh, very well." Fanny fumbled with the lock on her safe box and handed Nellie a large bag of coin.

Mrs. Bennet had been truly desperate when she was finally sure she was with child. Her father had spared her no lectures on what would come to pass if Fanny ever strayed again. She had failed in her seduction of Henry and now what was she to do?

There was only one answer. Henry could never know.

It had taken Fanny some time to come up with a plan. She would need a confederate. The greedy, little upstairs maid, Nellie, was perfect. The girl had agreed, but only on condition that she be paid an outrageous sum. Fanny was forced to accede. What choice did she have?

Nellie would replace Fanny's lady maid. The two women would see to it that Fanny gained a lot of weight. For a while, that would cover things. Then, as the pregnancy progressed, Fanny would have more and more fits of nerves. Her only comfort would be staying in her rooms with only Nellie as company.

Soon, no one thought anything of Fanny spending nearly all her time above stairs. Fanny's weight gain allowed Nellie to arrange and alter new gowns as needed. Fanny took to wearing many shawls, even in the summer heat.

When it came near Fanny's time, the two women would get into a rig and drive it to a nearby town. There, they would hire a coach and send the rig back to Longbourn with a note that Nellie's mother was deathly ill. Mrs. Bennet had accompanied her dear companion to the woman's side. Fanny and Nellie would change hackneys at least three times, making them hard to trace.

The babe would be born at the house of Nellie's aunt. For another price, the woman would keep the child. Then, no one the wiser, Fanny would return to Longbourn.

So far, it had all worked amazingly well. The house did not know that Fanny was with child. She knew they should leave soon. However, it was hot and Fanny, even in her own rooms, was uncomfortable. She knew her new surroundings, in the house of a servant's aunt, would be, without doubt, unpleasant. And she was certainly not looking forward to the trip. So, despite Nellie's daily admonitions, Fanny had delayed their departure.

Now, Nellie was heading for the door with her bag of money.

"Where are you going? Get back here and pack a bag!"

Nellie stopped and turned around to face Fanny. "No, madam."

"What?"

"I told you, madam, for the last three weeks, that we had to leave. I told you every day. You would not listen. You knew best. Well, I told you before and I tell you again. I am not a midwife. I am not going to be responsible for you and this baby dying on the road."

Another great pain ripped through Fanny.

"Madam, your time has come. You waited too long. This is your fifth babe. I told you they come very fast after so many. You cannot go anywhere. It is too late for you to leave. But I am going. I will be in great trouble if I stay. Good luck, Mrs. Bennet."

Nellie was off and out the door before Fanny's screeches began. She stood in the middle of the room, her shawls all fallen away, screaming for Nellie to come back.

When all the noise brought other servants running into the room, they were faced with the sight of a very pregnant Mrs. Bennet who had suddenly fallen quiet. She was staring down at her broken waters as they pooled out onto the floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Devonshire House, June 5, 1812 7:30 a.m.**

When Will finally made it to bed, he was completely exhausted. Quickly, he fell into a deep sleep and knew nothing again until roused by his man.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner are downstairs. Mr. Darcy insisted that you would want to be woken."

Will was alert enough to take in the words. "You did the right thing. Send a footman to see them to my study and then help me dress."

Half an hour later, Will joined the two men.

After greetings, Gardiner spoke first. "I received this blackmail note this morning, delivered by a little boy who quickly ran away. It was addressed to Elizabeth and Jane." Gardiner handed the note to Will.

"So Wickham cannot know their connection to me." Will had spoken absently, as though to himself, as he opened the note.

"Five thousand pounds?"

Darcy responded. "I know Wickham. That has to be much more than he expects to receive. So, you are completely correct. Wickham cannot know they are Cavendishes. He does not know where they are or how much money they have."

Will pulled the bell cord and asked for young Bellis. Both Bellis men came into the study. Will nodded at them with approval. Now that the senior man was back in London, Will wanted him involved, needed him involved, in what was going to occur. That conversation would come later. For this more public one, Will asked, "The men watching Gardiner's house, did they catch a boy this morning?"

"Yes, Your Grace," answered the senior man. "He could provide nothing but a description of the man who had paid him." Bellis gave them the description. Darcy looked at Will and nodded. It matched Wickham.

Will dismissed the Bellis men. "So, Wickham intends to send a boy to collect a note from you later today, agreeing to the exchange. We will try to catch Wickham then, but until we know where he has Lydia, I do not want to spook him. Maybe we can find him another way. Darcy, have you located Mrs. Younge?"

Gardiner looked up in surprise. He did not know who Mrs. Younge was. He was missing something here. However, he was not going to ask. His future was in the hands of these men. They would tell him what they wanted him to know.

"Yes. I am sure she knows where he is, but she is holding out. Her greed will win. She will come to me."

Will turned to Gardiner. "More men will be watching your house."

"Devonshire," Darcy interrupted. "Let us rethink the use of more men. I know Wickham. If he gets spooked, he will run. We may lose our chance to recover Miss Lydia. Wickham will certainly send a street urchin to pick the note. Those boys survive with their senses. They can easily spot a tail. Wickham will not be nearby, fearing a trap. However, if we let this note be delivered, without any trouble or hint of being watched, Wickham will be sure in his schemes. If we do not find him today, with information from Mrs. Younge, then we can have a tight net ready tomorrow. Wickham will surely be close by then. He will not trust a boy with his money."

Will leaned back, thought for a minute and nodded. "I will leave orders for the boy not to be detained or followed."

He turned back to Gardiner. "Why do not you prepare a note for Wickham, offering him three thousand? It is close enough to what he asked that he should jump at it. Tell him you assume he agrees and you will have the money ready for him tomorrow morning. Send word of anything new."

Gardiner knew he had just been dismissed. So, he bid farewell and left. Darcy, knowing he had not been dismissed, waited.

"Give me Mrs. Younge's address. I have a faster way."

It could not be seen from Darcy's posture or expression, but inside he flinched. That was not a request. It was an order. Darcy wrote out the address and handed it over.

Picking up the paper, Will said, "I will be right back." He left to give his orders for the watchers on Gardiner's house and to send Bellis out on a chore.

When Will returned, Darcy spoke first, "Will, whatever you are up to, I need to be there when Wickham is taken. He grew up at Pemberley. My presence will keep him calm."

Will eyed his old friend carefully and finally nodded. "Very well, but do not ask too many questions. And leave when I tell you. I will not have you involved in some of this. You must understand, I have decided that all this will not continue to haunt Elizabeth or Jane."

Darcy looked at his childhood friend, seeing in his mind the little boy who followed him around Pemberley's halls and fields. Then, Darcy looked again at the man sitting there. He saw the young, but powerful, Duke of Devonshire. William Cavendish had a faraway look on his face. He mind was on his plans. Will, the boy or the Duke, was a good man. Darcy would have to trust him in all this.

And now was not the time to speak to his friend about Elizabeth. His friend was not in the room.

Darcy stood. "I will be at Darcy House if you need me. I will send word if I am going out. I will prepare the funds for Gardiner for tomorrow, in case they are needed." Darcy saw that Will was about to object. "No, Will. I told you last night that Wickham is my responsibility."

Will nodded.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as Darcy left, Will sent for Norris. The Duke wrote out two quick notes. Glancing at the clock, he shrugged. _They will not be pleased, but they will have to deal with it. They can make it here in a little over an hour._

Will looked up to see Norris waiting.

Will sealed the missives and handed them to his butler. "Norris, choose the correct men for this. One letter is for Liverpool and the other for Bristol. If they are still sleeping, I want them woken. The messages need to be read now."

Norris sent two experienced men on their ways. Then he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. He hoped no one had seen him sweating. _Ducal commands! And so soon after Gardiner was here._ Norris said a silent prayer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Devonshire House, June 5, 1812 10:00 a.m.**

"Freddy!" Liverpool was surprised. What was his wife's brother doing here? Liverpool had been sure that this summons involved their political games. Freddy had no part in those.

"Liverpool," responded Freddy, reaching out to clasp his brother's hand. "I was summoned. Nay, I was ordered to appear. You, too? Curious."

"Well, let us go in and satisfy your curiosity.

The two earls were soon sitting across from the Duke. All three men ignored the coffee and tea that had been brought in.

"Liverpool, Bristol. Once again thank you for meeting me so quickly. Time is of the essence. What I have to tell you is of a personal nature. It turns out to involve you and I knew that you would both want your say in the matter."

Liverpool and Bristol looked at Will with interest. What could this be about?

"I need to tell you a little story. My uncle, Henry Cavendish, married more than twenty years ago under the name of Henry Bennet."

Freddy's eyes widened and fixed on Devonshire. _Bennet? This cannot be a coincidence._ Will noticed Bristol's reaction. It was more confirmation of what Will had learned last night.

A few minutes later, the tale of Henry's marriage, the betrayals of Fanny, Lydia's disappearance into the stews of London, and the blackmail had been told.

"As you can see, gentlemen, the sins of Fanny Bennet will forever be an albatross around the necks of my cousins Jane and Elizabeth. That is, they will be unless I make it not so."

Freddy was quiet, but Liverpool inquired, "I am sorry for your situation, but what has this to do with us?"

It was Freddy who answered, looking seriously into the eyes of his sister's husband. "We are here, brother, because the good Duke has found out that it also involves our family. I am the father of one of those girls. There is one called Catherine. I believe her to be my daughter."

Will looked over at Freddy. "You kept track of Fanny after you left Hertfordshire?"

"No, indeed. While it is not surprising that we made a child, I had not really thought about it." A slightly sheepish look crossed his face. "I am afraid the consequences of my actions meant little to me in those days. I found out about Catherine only a few days ago. A Mr. Philips tried to blackmail me."

Will's mind was whirling. _Philips. Again. _

Freddy continued. "I must admit that I thought I had been clever enough not to be found out. I wonder how he knew."

"I can help with that. Philips," Will said, turning to Liverpool, "is the husband of Fanny Bennet's sister. That man seems to have a very non-brotherly interest in Fanny. She rebuffed him, but he was fixated. It seems Philips long ago noticed lust in Fanny's eyes whenever she had too much wine. It must have really stuck in his craw that the lust was never directed at him."

Will turned back to Freddy. "Philips did not fail to notice Fanny's interest in you. He became suspicious. He started watching her home. When she walked out alone, he followed her. I am sorry to say that you were spied on many times." _No need to further burden Bristol with the level of detail Philips revealed. No man needs to know he was watched in such a way. When this is over, I will burn those parts._

Freddy looked a little green and then became red with anger.

Frowning in commiseration, Will continued, "The blackmail note to Gardiner makes it clear that Wickham does not know who he really absconded with."

Freddy looked thoughtful. "That doesn't mean Philips isn't involved. It has been how long since they left Brighton, four, five days? I am afraid Mr. Philips has been indisposed during this time."

Freddy went on to explain what he had ordered done to Philips.

Collating the new information, Will was silent for a moment.

"I have a lead on discovering Wickham. He can tell us whether or not Philips is again involved. That man also tried to blackmail Uncle Henry after Catherine was born, so it is possible. What I want, what I will do here, is to make a more permanent solution. I want Fanny and the younger girls removed to situations where they cannot harm Jane or Elizabeth. And," Will looked seriously into Liverpool's eyes, "I want those who seek to profit from this silenced, threats of scandal destroyed."

Liverpool nodded. _As you knew I would. My whole political future hangs by a thread. There has been too much scandal in my family already. You know I want none of this out, especially not now and preferably not ever. _Liverpool's years in politics kept his face unreadable, but inside he smiled. _And here, I thought I had you in my power as you sat there, spilling all your dirty secrets. But, you knew what you were doing all along. _ This young, untried Duke went up several notches in Liverpool's estimation.

"I am here today, gentlemen, because my decisions involve one of your own. You are entitled to your say."

An even more frank conversation ensued. Decisions were made, contingency plans formed. The two earls ordered their horses.

Liverpool took off the find John Randolph. This Archbishop and Privy Councilor would sign a special license for Liverpool, no questions asked.

Bristol went home to see his wife.

Will rang for Blevins.

"I need two estates, as from here and from each other as possible. I sure we have the right ones somewhere. I want them small and not easy to get to. Don't we still have a little plantation left in the West Indies?" As soon as the old Duke was dead, Will had ordered Blevins to dispose of all those properties. He would not profit using slaves. "It may do for one of them."

Blevins nodded.

"At any rate, put together a list. Nothing in England or Scotland. Get back to me as soon as you can."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bellis had been waiting outside the door. As soon as Blevins left, Will's special servant knocked, received permission, and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"Your Grace," said Bellis, bowing as always. "She knew more than enough."

Will cringed.

"Not to worry, sir. She is unharmed and I am sure no one will ever know of my visit." Bellis was surprised at the sympathy he always felt for this boy. If Bellis had ever really considered the matter, he should have been more concerned that any feelings were unusual for him. But Bellis was not introspective, so feelings, when he had them, always took him by surprise.

"I think our Mrs. Younge even enjoyed giving up Wickham's secrets. She seems a little angry. He came to her last night. After he had his fun, he was complaining that he could not take Lydia, that she was more valuable as a maid. Poor Younge, I believe, felt a little used. However, he did brag about all his plans. Wickham is going to a gaming hell tonight. Younge even knew when and where. He aims to use the girl as his stake in a high wager game. After he wins, he plans to sell her to the highest bidder at the table."

Even after all Will had learned of Wickham, he had not been expecting anything this vile. A portion of Will's plan changed in that instant.

Bellis continued. "Wickham plans to collect the ransom from Gardiner's house tomorrow morning. He will give Gardiner the name and address of the lodgings where he has been keeping the girl. She, of course, will not be there anymore. Then, Wickham will hightail it to the first ship bound for the Americas."

Will felt the irony of that last part. He, too, had been planning a voyage for Wickham. Now that was all changed.

Will looked at Bellis. "Sit down, my friend. We have much to discuss."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**A Covent Garden Alley, June 5, 1812 10:00 p.m. **

Darcy and Will stepped into the room. It smelled of cigar, sweat and desperation. A gaming hell indeed. Darcy spotted Wickham immediately. He whispered to Will's men, "The one standing, slightly bent over, hands on the table."

The four men nodded and fanned out around the room, slowly moving in on their prey.

Darcy looked around. Lydia was nowhere to be seen. His eyes went back to Wickham. Taking in the man's face, Darcy started. Wickham was extremely pale. He looked almost ill. His hands on the table seemed to be holding him upright. The other men at the table were boisterously congratulating one of their number.

As Darcy and Will got close, they both recognized the recipient of all the attention. It was Viscount Allardt. _Like Father, like son._ Will and Darcy would have been, in this case, unsurprised that they both had the same thought.

The Viscount was speaking, goading Wickham. "Hand over the key, Wicky Wick. Your little bit of muslin is now mine."

So, it had been true. Until this moment, his heart had hoped that his childhood companion would never sink this low. Trafficking in human flesh. Darcy was, however, unsurprised at the outcome of Wickham's attempt. Something, anything, of value in his hands and George was always sure he could turn it into more at the tables. Darcy shook his head slightly. _And he always blamed me for his let pockets. He never learned._

Wickham had reached into his pocket and retrieved a key. He was in the process of handing it over to Allardt.

Darcy reached in. "I will take that," he said as he grabbed the key.

"I say! That is mine," objected the surprised Viscount.

Suddenly, all the men at the table were aware that they had a lot of company. Seeing Darcy and Devonshire, all of them, except Wickham, had the grace to look a little sheepish. These two stiff men would never approve of the stakes tonight. All the men were suddenly afraid of their own fathers. Those men would be livid if it came out that their sons had been gambling for a maiden. "Your Grace. Darcy." Greetings were mumbled around the table and the men began to rise in deference to Will. The Duke waved them back into their seats.

Wickham had at first turned more pale and then suddenly gained a little courage. He did not know what Darcy was doing here, but George had always been able to manipulate him. Wickham was now on the alert for a new opportunity.

"Where is she?" Darcy's question was met by silence. "Burkesville, your aunt will not be pleased to learn about tonight."

"Room 4, upstairs. Locked in."

Darcy nodded and leaned over to whisper in Wickham's ear. "These men are going to escort you to the church. I am honored to stand up with you at your wedding tonight."

Wickham was incredulous, but could not respond to Darcy. Strong men had already surrounded Wickham and were propelling him toward the door.

Devonshire looked at the group that was left at the table. "Any word of this gets out and I will personally visit all your fathers." He looked over at young Burkesville. "As Darcy said, for you sir, it will be your dear aunt who receives my visit."

Now, Burkesville really paled. His father's estate was a wreck, buried under a mountain of debt. His only hope was his aunt who doted on him. But she was a religious old bird. If she found out about this, he would be cut off without a penny. He nodded. "Your Grace, no one will say a word. I will make sure."

With a final look of disgust at these half-drunken and thoroughly debauched examples of the peerage, Darcy and Will turned and headed for the stairs.

Knocking at and then unlocking Room 4, the men went in.

"Mr. Darcy! La, what a joke! What ever are you doing here?" Lydia looked at Darcy first with surprise and then with disdain. Clearly, she believed Wickham's lies.

"We are here to escort you to your wedding."

Lydia smiled and clapped her hands with glee. "Oh, dearest George! He said he had a special surprise for me tonight. But the wedding! Oh, I never thought! We were going to Gretna Green tomorrow, you know. Oh, but a London wedding, and as a surprise! Is not my George wonderful? Oh, but my clothes! My bonnet! The flowers! Oh, whatever will I do?"

She was now looking at the two men with real despair in her eyes. Will and Darcy just stared at her, stunned. What a monstrous fate Lydia had just escaped and the poor, foolish girl had no clue.

Darcy recovered first. "You look lovely, Miss Lydia."

"Oh, thank you. Dearest George did insist I indulge in a real bath today and that I put on my best dress for tonight. Not one of those hideous black ones, of course. He even had the maid at the inn come and do my hair! Of course, he knew I would wish to look my best. Mrs. Wickham. Oh, how well that sounds! But wait, it is night. It is much too late to be married!"

"Ah, Miss Lydia, not for you. You are to be wed by special license, signed by the Archbishop himself."

The two men easily steered the chattering Lydia out and to a carriage. Inside, Mrs. Burnett was waiting for her. There was indeed a bouquet of flowers for Lydia to carry.

Will left Darcy to take the two women to the church. He sighed heavily. So far, things were going more smoothly that he had anticipated. Will turned and walked around a corner, to where two more carriages were sitting. Stopping outside the door of the first one, he waited patiently.

Soon Bellis exited the carriage. "He will make no trouble at the church. And Earl Bristol was right. Philips was behind this. When the man did not show as planned, Wickham tried blackmail on his own."

Will nodded. "So be it. Your son will journey to Meryton tomorrow?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Bellis. I will have Liverpool and Bristol drop me at the church. I will see you there." Will shook the older man's hand. Bellis felt that thing again, emotion.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The vicar was waiting for them at the church. In no time at all, the bride and groom were signing the register.

Darcy, Mrs. Burnett and Will shared a carriage after the ceremony. It was taking them all to their homes. Will insisted that his men would see the happy couple to their wedding night hotel.

Darcy had promised to ask no questions tonight, so he did not. However, he knew Will's plans could not end here. Tomorrow, Darcy would present himself at Devonshire House. He needed to know what was happening and his old friend was going to tell him, like it or not.

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The new Mr. and Mrs. Wickham found themselves inside a carriage with a charming young man. He was the same respectable looking, deferential footman who had put Philips at his ease a few days ago in Meryton. Bellis and the other men rode atop and behind the carriage.

The hotel at which they stopped was in a very respectable part of town. Still, it had a lively pub downstairs, where much laughing, drinking and gambling was taking place.

The young footman was the only man to enter with the Wickhams. They were soon approached by a cheery, middle-aged woman. "Mr. and Mrs. Wickham?"

Lydia smiled and nodded.

"Come, my dear. I am Mrs. Watson. All is in readiness upstairs." She turned to George. "Your wife should be ready in about an hour. We will have supper for the two of you in your sitting room at that time. Until then, perhaps your friend will keep you company in our pub?"

Mrs. Watson did not wait for an answer. She turned and bustled Lydia off and up the stairs. She led Lydia to a sizeable and comfortable room.

"Your sitting room is just through that door. And this is Kitty. She will be your maid while you are with us."

Lydia giggled. "Kitty? La. My sister is Kitty."

Both girls giggled and Mrs. Watson left them to it. The girls laughed and had great fun while they prepared Lydia for her wedding night.

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WARNING: VIOLENCE OCCURS IN THE FOLLOWING PAGES. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT, SKIP THE REST OF THIS WEEK'S POST.

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Downstairs, the young footman winked at Wickham and brought out a jingling bag of coin. "Me Master says you should be well entertained while you wait."

For the first time in hours, Wickham smiled. The footman led George to a table, where they asked and received permission to join the game.

The game was enjoyable and everyone at the table was jovial, except for the man sitting to Wickham's right. He had been surly since Wickham and the footman had arrived. George could not blame the stranger for his grumpy disposition. The unlucky man had lost every hand since George sat down.

However, for once, George's pile of coins was growing. It was his turn to deal and he had a large smile on his face as he passed the cards around.

Suddenly, the surly man jumped to his feet. "Cheat!" he yelled loudly. "Why you cheating bastard! You just dealt to yourself a card from the bottom of the deck." The man's voice was heard all over the now silent room. Then the man grabbed Wickham's hair with his left hand and bent Wickham's neck back. A knife flashed. The killer fled out into the streets before anyone in the stunned room moved.

Then, the whole pub was chaos. Several men ran to chase the killer. Among those who ran out was Bellis. He had slipped into the room earlier so he could make sure things went as they should.

The authorities were called. There was no question as to what had happened. After all, there was a whole room full of witnesses. A card cheat had been killed by his irate victim.

During the uproar, the handsome young footman had slid over to Mrs. Watson. "Begging your pardon, madam. I's just hired for the night. I can't talk to those men over there. I's looking for a real position. If my name is in the papers, no one will hire me. Please, Mrs. Watson. Here is the bag of coin my master gave me for the groom's entertainment tonight. Please keep it for all your troubles. May I just leave?"

Mrs. Watson looked at the worried young man. She slipped the bag of coins into her pocket and patted his arm. "Of course, dearie. You take care."

Soon, the constable came over to Mrs. Watson. "Do you know the poor, dead man? Is there someone we should call for the body?"

"Oh, my!" squeaked the woman, finally thinking about the poor bride upstairs.

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Edward Gardiner was roused from his sleep. It was nearly three hours later when he re-entered his home. He gratefully turned over the hysterical new bride and new widow to Mrs. Gardiner's care.

The undertaker had the body. They would all travel with it tomorrow. _No, make that today_. Mr. Wickham would be buried in the Longbourn Bennet plot. Lydia had known of no relatives.

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**Meryton, June 6, 1812**

Young Bellis ambled into Meryton around three o'clock. No use being too early. He easily located Philips' offices. It was a small town.

This Bellis did not have the look of his father at all. The son had a charming, boyish face, despite his nearly thirty years. The father and son had learned, early on, that they made a perfect team. When needed, Bellis senior could frighten someone just by standing there. Bellis junior could charm them the same way.

A young maid answered the door.

"Mr. Philips, please."

"I am sorry, sir. Mr. Philips cannot be seen. He fell and broke his arm. Badly, sir. He is still in bed with laudanum."

_Perfect._ "I am so sorry. Oh, but I will be in such trouble. My master sent me from London. He heard Mr. Philips wanted a clerk. My master's youngest just finished studying the law. I am supposed to see if it is a nice town, a nice home." Bellis frowned in a most pitiful way.

"Well, sir, my mistress is from home. I am sure she would show you around. I will do it."

"Oh, could you? You would save me."

The blushing maid showed Bellis through the offices and the house. She paused at an upstairs door. "This is the master's chambers, but he is sleeping in there, sir."

Bellis looked down forlornly. "Oh, these chambers are so important." Suddenly his face brightened. "Did not you say he took laudanum? Could he be solid asleep?"

The maid's face brightened, too. "Oh, you are right, sir. He takes a dose every six hours and he took this last one not an hour ago. He will be solid asleep for sure." She looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone. "I will stand guard. Just be fast, so I don't get in trouble."

Bellis was indeed quick. He took in the room, noting with satisfaction the slightly open side window, the nearly full bottle of laudanum and the extra pillows on the bed. _Perfect again._

Bellis carefully cracked the door and the maid signaled it was safe to come out.

"Thank you so much, miss. You have saved me. I'll just look around a moment outside before I go. Thank you. Thank you, again." He gallantly kissed her hand as he left. The maid was beaming.

He did take a good look around outside, confirming the placement of the window and locating a ladder in the back shed. Good. He would not have to go through the house or try to climb that tree. It was not quite conveniently located, anyway.

Riding back out of town, he did some calculations. Philips should get a dose of laudanum around two a.m. By three, he would be out cold. That was a good time. The town and the household would be solidly asleep and the earliest servants would not be up for another hour.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bellis climbed carefully into the room. First, he took a pillow and used it to deny Philips all air. The drugged man barely resisted. When Bellis was sure Philips was gone, he put the pillow back in place and arranged the bed clothes. He then took the nearly full bottle of laudanum and emptied into his pocket flask. He placed the empty bottle on the bedside table, close to Philips' good arm. Checking once again that the man's heart was no longer beating, Bellis climbed back out the window, pulled it back to its nearly closed position and climbed down. After returning the ladder to the shed, Bellis disappeared into the night.

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	20. Part 3, Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:**

I am sure everyone has studied about the famous triangle of trade between the Old World (mostly England and France,) Africa and the New World. It went something like this: Europeans used things like cloth, beads, guns and rum to trade for slaves in Africa. The slaves were traded in the New World for sugar, tobacco and cotton. These goods were then sent back to Europe to satisfy eager consumers. It was not until near the time of our story that England took a stiff stance against trafficking in human beings. The United States still had another half century to go before it would become as humane.

For the West Indies, the climate, the soil and the slaves allowed cheap and plentiful production of sugar. It became termed 'white gold.' These islands provided most of the world's sugar for nearly three centuries.

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**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 5**

**Devonshire House, June 6, 1812**

Darcy was shown into Elizabeth's private study. It was only eight in the morning, far too early for most of the ton to be out of bed. He smiled. Elizabeth was certainly unlike the rest of society. He knew she would be up and dressed. Had she been in the country, she would already be out riding.

His mind returned to more serious matters. Darcy knew he must see Elizabeth before he saw Will. They had to decide how to tell the Duke about their engagement. Moreover, Darcy knew he could not survive without a few moments alone with Elizabeth. It had been more than two days since he had seen her.

Having agreed to help with her estates was proving a godsend. Darcy had shown up with ledgers tucked under his arm and informed Norris that he had business with Miss Elizabeth. To have been shown to her private study was more than he had hoped.

She walked through the door. Their eyes held each other for a long moment. Darcy once again saw her doubts and fears. _No, Elizabeth. Lydia's elopement did not drive me away. Nothing will. _ He strode over, took her arm and moved her out of sight of anyone passing in the hall.

Then, Darcy pulled Elizabeth into his arms and gratefully felt her collapse against him. He could not stop his moan of satisfaction. She lifted her eyes to him and he bent to capture her mouth.

When he released her, she murmured, "I have missed you, too." Fire started in his eyes and he consumed her lips again. His hands reacted on their own, moving over her arms, her back and the upper swell of her hips.

This time, when he released her, he was breathing hard. The hazy look in her eyes almost undid him, but he forced himself to step back. "Come and sit, Elizabeth. We have a very long time until we can wed. I have to behave better."

Her eyes blinked and she seemed to slowly process what he had said. Finally she nodded.

He placed her in the desk chair and took a seat across from her. He looked back and found her eyes cast down to her lap. She whispered, "How can you stand yet another scandal?"

"Elizabeth, they were married last night."

Her eyes flew up in question. Darcy nodded and saw her relief. It was quickly followed by concern. "Yet, he is such a man."

There was little Darcy could say in reply to that, so he held his tongue a few moments while she processed the new situation.

"Elizabeth, we must speak of something else. We must tell Will of our understanding."

Now, he saw pain cross her features.

Darcy spoke gently, "I feel the same. I know he is in love with you."

"But, how?"

"Remember, we are old friends. Months ago he spoke of loving a cousin who thought him only a brother. At the time, I could not know it was you. We were sharing a drink at Darcy House. Both of us were in misery from love. Neither of us knew it was from love of the same woman."

Elizabeth blushed and looked down once again. She whispered, "His heart will be broken, but I have broken it already. He is my dearest friend, but I cannot love him in the way he wishes. He will always be my brother."

_Thank God._ "Lizzy, it will be worse if we do not tell him soon. We cannot keep such a thing secret from him. We owe him our honesty."

Many moments passed before she again whispered. "I will tell him tonight."

"My love, do you not think I should tell him, man to man?"

She looked up and directly into Darcy's eyes, searching for something. He could not know that she was looking for territoriality, for the appearance of a male posturing to battle for a prize. She found only tenderness, sadness and concern. _He is a good man and he loves Will, too._

"Thank you, but no. I have to be the one. Please understand."

Finally, Darcy nodded and was about to speak when a footman appeared at the door.

"His Grace requests the pleasure of your company in the breakfast room."

Elizabeth answered. "Thank you, Thomas. Please let him know we will come directly."

Darcy smiled as he walked her out of the study. "And now, Miss Elizabeth, I believe you shall hear of your sister's wedding."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When they were all seated, Elizabeth looked from one man to the other and back again. "Well, which of the two of you is going to tell me how my sister managed to marry last night?"

Both men smiled.

"Darcy found Mrs. Younge."

"Will convinced her to give us Wickham's location."

"We visited them, special license in hand, and accompanied them to the church."

"Darcy stood as best man."

Elizabeth frowned at this and looked with sympathy at Darcy. "While the good Duke here held the groom in place?"

"Yes, darling cousin. Something very like that."

"And how, exactly, did you get him to agree?"

Will had rehearsed for this part, talking to himself in the mirror. He knew she would ask. He knew Darcy would ask. The truth, at least part of it, would be his best friend here. "I convinced him that a secure future was a vast improvement over no future at all"

After a few silent moments, Darcy's and Lizzy's eyebrows slowly slid back to their normal positions.

Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee and then asked, "And how much, exactly, is this secure future going to cost me?"

Both men began to object and then fell silent. They had registered the grin on her face. "Very well, sirs. Please tell me what you have in mind."

Will explained. His plan was much larger than just the future of Lydia and Wickham. Will had in mind ridding England of the worrisome parts of Henry's legacy, once and for all.

Darcy insisted on providing the small Wickham estate. He would not be moved. George Wickham was, and always had been, a Darcy problem.

Lizzy made an improvement to what Will had in mind for Fanny. The Duke could not argue with it. Having two estates pop up out of the blue had been a weakness in Will's plan. Lizzy's was better. However, he thought to himself that he could still use the West Indies plantation for the removal of Mrs. Philips, sending Fanny Bennet off with her instead of with Miss Lydia. He, of course, could not say that aloud right now. Philips had yet to meet his maker. Will would have to meet with Gardiner before the reading of the wills. Fanny Bennet needed to be manipulated to join her sister rather than her daughter. For now, he just let these thoughts firm in his mind, deciding how to bring them up without giving himself away.

The truth of the Earl of Bristol and the future of Catherine were now being discussed. Lizzy easily saw that it was not her affair. If Kitty's father wanted her, it should be a choice for Kitty to make. If, after meeting her, the Earl wanted to take her into his household, then Kitty would need to know the truth.

Mary was a more difficult subject. Elizabeth had been thinking about it for days. She was more and more convinced that Mary should know the truth. Elizabeth was not afraid Mary would share the knowledge, only afraid that she would be hurt. However, Mary would be more hurt at being distanced from Jane for no known reason. Elizabeth knew how much Mary relied on Jane. She also knew that Mary did not deserve a life with either Fanny or Lydia. Still, this decision could wait until Lizzy could talk it over with her older sister.

The talk had just turned to Elizabeth's Uncle Philips. He would be the only wildcard left, the only possibly dangerous one who knew the truth about Henry's real identity. The letter from Will's father to Gardiner made it clear that Philips was not to be trusted. Will knew this part of the discussion would be meaningless by morning, but he had to participate in it at this point. He was suggesting sending Philips off to the now available West Indies plantation when a footman interrupted them, bearing an urgent message.

Will opened and read it. He then passed it to Darcy, who read it through. Darcy cast a quick glance at Will before looking at Elizabeth. "It is from your Uncle Gardiner. It seems that while waiting for Lydia to prepare for her wedding night, Wickham entertained himself by playing cards. He was caught cheating and killed for it."

Darcy passed the message over to Elizabeth. While she was reading it, Darcy glared at Will. The Duke, however, had his face in his hands and Darcy's glare went unseen.

Will finally raised his head, his face expressionless. "Good riddance. And this changes nothing. Lydia will now inherit Wickham's estate. Everything can still go forward."

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. "I hate to speak so, but in a way I am relieved. No matter how foolish Lydia has been, she did not deserve to be tied to such a man."

Will seemed thoughtful. "We must move quickly now. The funeral will probably be Monday, Tuesday at the latest. We need a will in place by then. I will send for Higginbotham. Darcy, can you get the particulars of that estate over to me?"

Darcy nodded and rose. "Your Grace, Miss Elizabeth."

"I have another question for you about Darlington, Mr. Darcy. I will walk out with you."

As they left the room, Will put his head back in his hands. This time it was not in pretended thought but in real pain. They had both tried to hide it, but the Duke of Devonshire was an observant man. He had not missed the charged air that flowed been Lizzy and Darcy. _She may be well and truly lost._

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**Scarborough, June 6, 1812**

Charles was warmly welcomed by his maiden aunt before she promptly sent him to wash off his travel dust. He adored this softly spoken, gentle woman. She was truly his mother in all the ways that mattered. Julia Bingley had always lived with them. She was the one who had cared for Charles when he was ill, who had tended all his scrapes and bruises, and who held the boy whenever young Charles needed comfort.

His real mother kept to the traditions with which she had been raised. Children were to be paraded in once a day. When the short family niceties were over, offspring were once again banished to the nursery. Now that Charles was older, he wondered how she had treated his father. Was it with the same cold duty? Bingley shuddered to think about it. He had seen so many women in the ton who seemed to have ice in their veins. Had his mother just been one of them? Had she been forced to marry his rich merchant father or had it been love? Charles hoped it had been the latter, but in his heart he doubted it.

One of the things that had drawn him so intensely to Jane Bennet was the warmth that surrounded her. Charles knew she would never banish her children to the third floor. He could see her holding them, drying their tears, quieting all their worries. _I can see her doing the same with me._ He closed his eyes for a moment. He had to forget all that. She was gone. He was not worthy of her, not in station nor in behavior.

Bingley shook off his melancholy and made his made his way back to his aunt. She had tea laid out in the drawing room, but his sister was still no where to be seen.

"Caroline?"

"Up in her rooms and in another tiff." Aunt Julia gave him a small smile, but Charles could see how tired she was.

"I am very grateful. I truly did not know where else to send her."

"Still no husband on the horizon?"

Charles shook his head.

Julia sighed. "I have concluded, from several of her rants, that she still expects to marry your friend Mr. Darcy."

It was Charles' turn to sigh. "It will never happen. He would never marry a tradesman's daughter. Moreover, he barely tolerates her company. I do not understand how she can persist in her delusions."

"She is completely disruptive to this household, Charles. I have done my best but I am in sympathy with Mr. Darcy. I can barely tolerate her company. Do you intend to leave her here much longer?"

Charles frowned at his aunt. "Forgive me. I am hoping to leave her here until the start of the next season. Then I will be done with her. I will take her back to London, install her in some apartments, hand over her dowry and she will be on her own. I know that she will quickly offend the wrong people and find herself cast from the society that she so craves. Maybe then she will finally look to her own station for a husband."

Julia was surprised at how calm Charles was. He was a very kind man. If he was indeed throwing Caroline out, she must have really gone too far. Still, Julia internally moaned. This meant six more months of Caroline. The servants would all have to receive hefty bonuses.

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**Darcy House, June 6, 1812**

Darcy stood staring out the window of his study. He knew, absolutely, that Will had ordered the death of Wickham. Darcy was aware that he should be shocked, but he was not. It was clearly the best solution possible. Wickham had so many crimes at his feet that he would have surely hung. Will had only carried out justice while at the same time protecting Elizabeth and Jane. Darcy would not have been able to do it that way, but he could not lay any fault at Will's door. _It is done and it was done for the best. I will think on it no more._

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**Devonshire House, June 6, 1812**

Will knocked and slowly opened the panel to Lizzy's chamber.

She was waiting for him, the two brandies poured out. Will felt a sharp ache, just where his heart was. These moments were drawing to a close. He knew it.

When they were comfortably settled by the fire, Elizabeth gently spoke. "Wills, I have fallen in love."

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**Purvis Lodge, June 9, 1812**

On what could only be termed orders from the Duke, Gardiner had delayed both funerals until this morning. The men had just returned from burying Wickham in the Bennet family plot and Philips in the Gardiner family plot.

Higginbotham kept his face a mask as he watched the hysterical lamentations of Lydia, Fanny and Jane Philips.

The neighbors were so solicitous. What horrible misfortunes, all on the head of one family. Henry Bennet was barely cold in his grave and now both Mrs. Philips and Mrs. Wickham were widows. When all the neighbors, so kind in commiserating with the bereaved ladies, finally left, Fanny, Lydia, and Mrs. Philips seemed to lose their severe grief very suddenly. They were all eyeing Higginbotham. His presence meant a will, an inheritance. Higginbotham knew this look very well. It was the one he usually saw, the one that had been entirely missing from both Elizabeth and Jane Cavendish.

Fanny and Lydia knew Higginbotham was probably there just for Mrs. Philips. However, until he finished speaking, there would be hope. Lydia had, after all, just buried her husband. Surely he had something to leave to her. Fanny had created several scenarios in her mind under which she could profit with the death of her brother Philips. She was currently thinking that perhaps her father had somehow entailed the house in Meryton to be divided among his own children since Philips had no son. One could hope, you know. There could be something for her here. Higginbotham did not need to hear their thoughts. He knew all their dreams from their faces. He smiled internally. _Well, today, something for everyone._

"Ladies, Mr. Gardiner and I need to speak with all of you, one at a time."

Fanny's heart leapt. _There is something for me!_

"Mrs. Philips, if you would come with us?" Higginbotham had decided that he wanted to deal with this one first. He had rehearsed it the most. If he was able to do this one with a detached face, knew he could behave properly for the following two.

Mrs. Philips was expecting something straight forward and common for a woman in her situation. She knew she had the five thousand pounds settled on her with her marriage. Surely her husband had accumulated something more. She was fairly sure that she also had the house with the law offices below. A new attorney would automatically get most of the neighboring business. This made the house valuable and Mrs. Philips could sell it. Yes, Mrs. Philips had the whole thing settled in her mind. She would come and live with her sister Bennet. This would erase her housing expenses and her income would then be very comfortable indeed. She nodded at Mr. Higginbotham that she was prepared to hear the will.

He cleared his throat and sent a silent prayer to heaven. _Forging wills, forging deeds. May God forgive me. _ Yet the money from the Duke would let him comfortably retire, more securely than he had ever imagined. _ In for a penny, in for a pound. Here we go._ "Mrs. Philips, your situation is somewhat unusual. Your late husband invested all his assets, including your dowry and your house in Meryton, into a small plantation in the West Indies."

Jane Philips nearly swooned. "What?"

Higginbotham continued in his calm style. "The net income is about five hundred pounds per annum. However, the expenses there are quite low. If you live on the plantation, you situation will be very comfortable indeed."

Gardiner and Higginbotham went on to paint a very attractive picture of the far off community of land owners and the advantages to Jane Philips of finally being mistress of her own manor. They were cunning to do so. Mrs. Philips had always resented her lower status. She was merely the wife of an attorney. She had never been gentry. When her brother hinted that Mrs. Bennet would probably want to travel with her and would have some income to add to their comfort, Mrs. Philips was well and truly sold. Higginbotham told her that she would need to travel soon, but he would be happy to make all the arrangements. _Yes. The Duke has sent his own man off to smooth the transition. And, he wants you and Mrs. Bennet on a ship right away. We will give you so many stops that your trip will take at least six weeks. Hopefully all will be in place when you get there._

Lydia came next. She was shocked and thrilled to learn that her husband had left her a small estate in Ireland. It had been willed to him by his godfather, old Mr. Darcy, to be made known to him only on the event of his marriage. It now belonged to Lydia. However, unless she took up residence there permanently, the estate would revert back to the Darcys. _The Darcys? Let my poor George's inheritance go back to that evil man who so mistreated him? Never. Besides, do I want to be_ p_enniless here or mistress of my own estate in an exotic new place?_ Lydia did not need to think twice about any of it.

Higginbotham assured her that he would have travel arrangements made within a fortnight. _Mr. Darcy has already sent his man off to prepare that little place. No need for any delays._

Mrs. Bennet, obviously nervous but greedy, came in and her brother led her to a chair.

Higginbotham spoke in his drool voice. "Mrs. Bennet, there was an additional portion of Henry Bennet's will which was to be made known to you only if you properly observed the first six months of mourning. However, I am the executor and due to the terms of the other inheritances today, I feel I must make it known to you now. If you leave England, never to return, Mr. Bennet has also left you the lifetime income off of ten thousand pounds."

"Leave England? Of what do you speak?"

Edward Gardiner patted his sister's arm. "Calm down Fanny. You will find out shortly that Mrs. Philips has inherited a plantation in the West Indies and Lydia has inherited a small estate in Ireland. You have a choice of where to go. If you live either place, you can have the interest on these ten thousand pounds. Mr. Higginbotham is telling you about it now so that you have a chance to join your favorite daughter or your sister and still comply with the terms of the bequest."

Gardiner had initially baulked when Devonshire informed him that he, Gardiner, was to put up all of the missing money. Philips had been a poor manager of his own finances. The only things he left were Jane Philips' dowry and the house in Meryton. These would cover less than six thousand pounds. Gardiner grimaced as he remembered the Duke's face. For the first time in their acquaintance, Gardiner had seen disdain directed his way. He was immediately contrite. He should never have baulked at being able to buy his way out of this misery with only a little more than four thousand pounds. It was a blessing and a bargain. Gardiner tried to apologize to the Duke for his initial reaction. It was too late. Gardiner had lost the respect of Devonshire and he knew it. "Be thankful it is not the entire original thirty thousand," had been the Duke's cold, parting words.

Edward Gardiner realized the high cost of what had just happened. He now had to face himself as he really was. All the years of avoiding the truth, of not doing his duty to Fanny and her daughters, of pretending he was too busy to do more, hit him hard. He was his father's son and the young Duke of Devonshire had seen it. There was indeed a high price to pay.

Gardiner's mind came back to the room. Fanny was still fluttering. He stood up and got a glass of wine for his sister. He would now make sure this all went the way Devonshire wanted it to go. "Calm yourself. Here have a sip of wine. Sit back and think of what you have just heard. You now have a good inheritance, but you have to live outside England to get it. You are still young and beautiful Fanny. It may be a great adventure."

Fanny felt the compliment. She had been thinking the same. She was still beautiful. A new place meant new neighbors, new men. It could be an adventure, one with no father or Mr. Petrie to watch her every move. And the money was tempting. She was calm now. She was calculating now. She would have thrice her current income. That would be comfortable indeed.

Higginbotham and Gardiner went on to paint a very romantic picture of life in the West Indies; all the servants, the society and, especially for Fanny, all the officers who would come to port. They then casually remarked on how difficult it was to get to Lydia's Irish estate, how isolated it was from the rest of the world. The effects of their comments were clearly visible in Fanny's face. She would not give up handsome sailors for an isolated existence in Ireland. Gardiner and Higginbotham shared a brief look of triumph.

Suddenly, it must have occurred to Fanny that she was mother to more than Lydia. "My other girls!"

Gardiner found it surprisingly easy to tell lies and half-truths to his despicable sister.

"I will take them into my house. I am already making arrangements for Mary and Kitty to attend school here. And we must think of their future husbands. We cannot count on a sailor for their futures and while there are sure to be some eligible men in Lydia's new neighborhood, perhaps not enough for all three girls. At least here, we know that I can expose Mary and Kitty to gentlemen in London."

Fanny's short-lived maternal instincts were appeased. She went back to dreaming of her new life. Foremost in her thoughts was a new wardrobe. No one in the West Indies needed to know that she was still in mourning. She would discuss it with her sister Philips. Some shopping was in order for both of them before they sailed.

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And thus, in little more than a fortnight, Meryton was emptied of every Bennet, Philips and Gardiner.

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	21. Part 3, Chapter 6

**Author's notes:** I apologize for the lack of history notes this week. I am running late and want to get this post up. Chapter 6 is being presented in two parts, one this week and one next time.

THIS POST HAS BEEN EDITED. Some overt sexual content has been removed. If you want to read the original version, it is available at both A Happy Assembly and DarcyandLizzy . com.

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**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 6**

**Devonshire House, April 24, 1813**

Two of the most powerful people in England strolled, arm in arm, through the formal rooms of Devonshire House. One of them had the title to go with his influence. The other, a woman, could not have the title but nonetheless had all the wealth and power of her family in her hands. Tonight they were united by much more than power. Their most precious jewel, carrier of both bloodlines and holder of both hearts, was to take her place in society.

Servants scurried to and fro, placing final food and lighting final candles in the already glittering rooms. Will felt Amabel falter a little. He quickly covered the hand that was resting on his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Remember your own words, Lady Amabel. We hold her heart, her mind, her history in a way that no one else ever can. She will always be ours."

Amabel covered Will's hand with her own. She now gave him the reassuring squeeze. Holding tightly to each other, both minds flew back to that night, so many months ago.

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_**Kent House, June 6, 1812 **_

_He had known it was coming. She was in love with Darcy. He could scare remember mumbling that Darcy was a good man, fleeing the room, ordering his horse and riding off into the London night. Somehow, he found himself standing at the door of Kent House, pounding the knocker and ordering them to open the door. The aging butler had seen all the agony in the young Duke's face and led him to Lady Amabel's private sitting room. Moments later, the matriarch came in, still tying her heavy robes in place. _

_She saw the stark grief on the face of the young Duke. Thinking that some horror had befallen Elizabeth, Amabel stumbled over to her chair and sat down heavily. In no more than a moment, Will was on his knees before her. He buried his face in her lap and his arms clung to her legs. His voice broke as he spoke. "She will marry Darcy. I have lost her forever." _

_It took a while for Amabel's shocked mind to register his words. She released the breath that she was unknowingly holding. Elizabeth is safe!_

_Then Amabel became aware that Will was crying as he clung to her. She wrapped her arms around the boy and rocked him gently. She drifted back in time, remembering rocking the sobbing little Elizabeth all those years ago. That night she had gained a daughter. This night she gained a son._

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**Devonshire House, April 24, 1813**

Nolet stepped back. Elizabeth stood and turned slowly, letting her abigail critically assess every detail. Nolet finally smiled in satisfaction and Elizabeth turned to examine herself in the pier glass. At first all she could see were the jewels. Resting on the outer edge of her cleavage was a magnificent Cavendish teardrop ruby. In her ear lobes sat round Grey rubies. She raised her hand to her chest and the mirror returned the image of the square Darcy ruby solitaire on her finger.

The morning she had worn it to breakfast, Will had stared at it for the longest time. Suddenly he excused himself, saying he would return. Lady Amabel and Princess Lieven had been at the table. The three women were headed to the British Museum that day. Eyebrows were raised, but no one commented as they waited for the Duke to return. He brought back with him a velvet bag.

"Hold out your hand, Lizzy."

She did and into it tumbled the magnificent ruby teardrop. All three women inhaled sharply. It was one of the most beautiful stones they had ever seen. Elizabeth held it next to her ring and more inhaled breaths were heard.

"They are very nearly a match!"

"I thought so as I looked at your ring. It is a very deep color, but I knew I had seen the same, or nearly the same before, in this stone."

The magic of the jewels held the room quiet for several minutes.

"It is your wedding present, Elizabeth."

"But, it is too valuable. I cannot possibly… Does it not belong to the Dukedom?"

Will smiled. "Not this stone. And, Elizabeth, the recipient does not get to choose the gift. I insist." _It was always yours my love. That stone has only ever been meant for you._

Amabel spoke. "Well, if you are to have a Darcy ruby on your finger and a Cavendish ruby around your neck, we must find matching Grey rubies for your ears!" The poor British Museum was cast aside in favor of the Grey jewel vaults, to be followed a day later by a visit to the best goldsmith in London.

Unknown to Elizabeth, Amabel and Dorothea had a whispered conversation that resulted in the remaining rubies from the Grey bracelet becoming the adornments of the golden comb that now rested in the back of Elizabeth's hair.

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She smiled at the mirror. Elizabeth loved the creamy, shimmering silk dress. It was the perfect backdrop for her jewels. Nolet knew what Elizabeth was thinking. _No, my lady. They will not overwhelm you tonight. You will forget them as soon as your evening begins. You always ignore what you are wearing. Besides, you are the real jewel here. Everything else is only adornment for you. _Nolet sighed. _This woman will never realize how truly beautiful she is._

There was a knock from inside the wall and Nolet quickly disappeared as the panel opened and the Duke entered the room.

He stood staring at the vision before him. _She is every inch my Duchess._ Finally he stepped forward, brandy decanter in hand. "I thought you could use a little sip before we go down."

Elizabeth flew forward and Will managed to set the decanter down before closing his strong arms around her.

"Oh, Wills. Whatever shall I do, separated from you?"

He pulled her to him more tightly and whispered, "We are each other's hearts, love. We may be apart, but we will never be separated."

She nodded against his chest and he heard her forcing down a sob. Stepping back, he put one hand under her chin and brought her eyes up to his. "None of that now. Nolet and Lady Amabel will hang me if you have red eyes tonight. No tears."

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The Cavendish heiress had a few moments to herself before Will came back with Aunt Amelia to escort her downstairs. She sighed as she looked at Jane's letter. It had lain on her dressing table all day, there to keep her company while she prepared for the ball. If Elizabeth could not have her sister, she at least had the letter.

Mary had also sent a letter on the occasion of Elizabeth's ball and engagement. She had smiled to herself as she read her sisters' regrets for not being able to attend. She knew that they both believed themselves to be sincere. Elizabeth knew the truth. Neither of those sisters wanted anything to do with society and they had to be relieved to have such a just reason as duty for an excuse. She held no ill will for either of them. Elizabeth had a home and a place in society. Both Jane and Mary had found a much more suitable home elsewhere. Lizzy could only be happy for them.

She had approved wholeheartedly of their plans and had already deeded the Darlington estate over to Jane and Mary. Elizabeth was also providing funds for the changes needed to the estate so her sisters could achieve their goals.

Jane, with a lost Mary clinging to her side, had spent the last year exposing the lives of miners to all those who would listen. Her partner in all this was the Vicar Houghton from Felling. Now that Jane was firmly settled in the north, Elizabeth would not be surprised at a pairing between the two. She had seen no love nor any spark of physical passion there, but she had seen a fierce partnership dedicated to improving the lives of those who labored in the mines.

The Darlington estate was to become a home for miner's widows and orphans, as well as severely injured miners. There would be training in alternative occupations, everything from farming to blacksmithing to service to sewing. Mary would run a school for reading, writing and arithmetic.

Elizabeth was at peace for these two sisters. They would have meaningful, fulfilled lives.

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Elizabeth Ann Bennet Cavendish, with Will on one side and Lady Amabel on the other, made a grand entrance. She walked slowly down the sweeping staircase and, for better or for worse, into the arms of the ton.

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Mr. and Mrs. Hill stood, along with many other servants, along a fourth floor railing as they watched a

glowing Elizabeth descend the stairs. So many years and so much trouble were behind her now. She would have the life she deserved. Husband and wife both had tears in their eyes. There had been many times when old Mr. Hill wished that he had just killed Fanny Bennet all those years ago, on the day he found the woman beating Elizabeth.

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_**Longbourn, January 1, 1798**_

_Little Lizzy sat staring out her bedroom window. She knew it was cold outside and Fanny had forbidden her from leaving the house, but the sun was shining brightly and Lizzy was too excited to stay indoors. She knew her father would come soon to take her and Jane back to London. She would see Wills! Lizzy had such a present for him! She had caught a real live mouse and had it safely in a large jar, with holes for air, cheese to eat and everything! Well enough of staying indoors. She would find Jane and they would both sneak out for a little time in the sun._

_The giggling girls slipped out the kitchen door, under the gentle eyes of the smiling cook. They raced off to the edge of the woods, where they were most likely not to be seen. Suddenly, they froze. It was their mother's voice and she was screaming._

"_Let go of me! How dare you try to touch me! Never! I tell you again never! No! Help!"_

"_Mama!" screamed little Jane and both girls flew off toward the voice. They found their mother red in the face and saw the back of a man disappearing into the trees._

_It took Fanny a moment to register the presence of her daughters. Then fear raced through her. Had they seen Philips embracing her? Even though the embrace was unwanted and she was fighting it, Henry and Petrie would never believe her. She would be cast out. That spoiled Elizabeth would surely tell. Yes. That rotten little child was at the center of Henry's rejection anyway. Fanny just knew it._

_Fanny grabbed Elizabeth on both arms and started to shake her. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay inside. What did you see?"_

_A stunned Elizabeth could not answer. Fanny took that as more belligerent behavior and began to strike the poor girl. "Answer me! What are you doing here? You ungrateful child!"_

_A frightened Jane ran off toward the house and slammed into Mr. Hill. Jane did not speak. She only sobbed and pointed to the woods. Hill took off in that direction and soon heard Fanny's screeches and Elizabeth's cries of pain. He pulled Fanny away from Elizabeth. "If you ever touch that child again, I will personally wring your neck."_

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_Fanny, now really afraid of the hedgerows, managed to sneak in and talk to Jane and Elizabeth that night. She convinced the poor, frightened girls that it was all the fault of Elizabeth. If she had obeyed her mother, none of this would ever have occurred. Then Fanny really scared them by telling them that if they ever breathed a word, Henry would take Elizabeth away and the girls would never see each other again._

_What Fanny did not know was that her servants had loyalty only to Henry and the girls. An express had been sent to Petrie that same day and a carriage arrived to take the girls to London the following morning._

_Elizabeth would breathe a word of it to no one. But Henry knew that Jane was older, nearly two years older. She should be able to tell him something. What Henry heard shocked him to his core. Jane wove a pretty and shiny picture of her loving mother and her dear sister. What had happened in the woods had to be only a little disagreement. Certainly they loved each other too much for more._

_Henry understood that gentle, guileless Jane believed that to be true. He saw in an instant that Fanny would always be able to manipulate this child. Chains were put around everything that Jane would inherit and Elizabeth's visits to Longbourn were to change forever. She would live in Henry's house when there and would have her own small army of servants traveling with her. There would be no danger, ever again, of Fanny being alone with Elizabeth._

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**Devonshire House, April 24, 1813**

It was time for the supper dance and the first strains of the infamous waltz floated through the air. Yes, it was being danced at Almack's. Yes, it was being danced at Saint James'. Yes, dance instructors all over town were busy teaching it to one and all. Still, it was so new that it had the thrill of forbidden fruit. Young people all over the room were smiling inside. Their guardians could not object to something that had been officially accepted. They could only watch in horror as their maiden charges were led to the floor.

Darcy placed his hand on Elizabeth's waist and nearly moaned as the soft silk moved against her skin beneath. He thanked his lucky stars that her ball was such a crush. The dance floor was crowded, even for the waltz. He knew it would allow him small freedoms. He could hold her a little too closely and whisper in her ear a little too often.

He missed her desperately. In the furor before the ball, Darcy had not been allowed any time alone with her.

It did not help that he had only returned from his trip to Rosings three days ago.

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_**Rosings Park, April 21, 1813**_

_Lady Catherine, Anne, Darcy and Fitzwilliam were gathered for breakfast. The servants were busy preparing Darcy's coach for departure. As usual, Lady Catherine was giving them minute instructions on their travel. _

_Darcy and Fitzwilliam had stayed a full ten days. They both knew that it would be years, at least, before Darcy again set foot here. They had agreed in advance that news of Darcy's engagement would only be announced on the morning of their departure. _

_The days in Kent had been hard work for both men. Lady Catherine might mean well, but her manner was so abrasive that Darcy had always spent most of his trips calming servants and tenants alike. Fitzwilliam spent this trip trying to learn Darcy's methods. Tenants and servants everywhere were leaving their old lives and heading to the industries in the cities. If Lady Catherine's harsh ways were not counteracted, at least annually, she would find herself without the people needed to keep Rosings prosperous. Neither nephew could countenance such an outcome, so they had worked constantly to put Richard in a strong position for helping the de Bourgh women. If the Colonel were to be sent off to war, well, they would have to apply to the Earl for help._

_Now it was time for departure. The words that would cause a rift in the family needed to be said. When Lady Catherine paused for a moment, Darcy spoke._

"_I will be announcing my engagement this Saturday evening."_

"_Finally," snapped Lady Catherine. "You have kept poor Anne waiting for years."_

"_Aunt, I have told you many times that I will never marry Anne. I am engaged to Miss Elizabeth Cavendish."_

_Lady Catherine, for once, was speechless. A Cavendish. She could not object on the grounds of fortune or connection. She was about to launch into her engagement from the cradle speech, when a shriek stopped her._

_The shriek came from Anne de Bourgh. "No! You are mine. Mother promised me! I have waited and waited. You belong to me!"_

"_Anne," Darcy's gentle voice began, "we have spoken of this many times. I have always told you that I would wed with my heart. You know I love you only as my cousin. You have always known this dream belonged only to your mother."_

"_No! No! No! Mother, tell him! You said he would change his mind! Tell him he must marry me!"_

"_Darcy! See how you disturb poor Anne. You are formed for each other. Of course you must marry her. Since you were in your cradles the union has been planned."_

_Darcy caught his aunt's hand and looked deeply in her eyes. "I love Elizabeth Cavendish. She is the only one who will ever be Mrs. Darcy."_

_Lady Catherine saw the truth, saw the end of her dreams, in his eyes. Her shoulders slumped._

_Suddenly, Anne screeched again and launched herself across the table at Darcy, her clawed fingers extended. Richard grabbed her from behind and locked his arms around her. "Darce, have them saddle my horse. You leave in the carriage and I will catch up with you on the road."_

_The screaming, screeching Anne de Bourgh was battling futilely to escape Richard's arms. He held her gently, but securely. Darcy looked from her crazed face, to his aunt's defeated one and back to Richard. Darcy nodded and left the room._

_The coach pulled up to wait for Fitzwilliam at the juncture with the main London road. It was not long before he rode up. Once his horse was tied to the rear of the carriage, Richard climbed in, holding a bloody handkerchief to his cheek. "You owe me once again cousin. Those claws were sharp."_

_No one laughed as Darcy's man poured brandy onto a clean kerchief and gave it to the Colonel to hold against his face. "Nails are dangerous. Give you infections, they do." _

_The Colonel nodded. "She has been given some laudanum. The new rector and the doctor have been called. It is all we can do for now."_

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**Devonshire House, April 24, 1813**

Catherine Hervey sighed as she watched, from the side of the room, the beautiful dancers drift by. Her step mother gently patted her arm. "Next year, my dear."

Kitty was dressed demurely, as befit a young lady who would not be out until the following season. However, due to the close relationship, Catherine Hervey had been allowed to attend the first part of her 'sister's' ball. Both families had already let it be known that young Catherine had been raised together with Henry Cavendish's daughters, 'as though she were a sister of their very own.' If anyone ever dared to ask, it would be told that Henry's wife was depressed after a miscarriage. The baby Catherine brought much solace.

There was no one to contradict such a tale. The family and servants were gone. The mid-wife had long since died. The Longbourn vicar was aged and if anyone wanted to look at the registers, nothing about any Cavendish or Bennet would be found. It was Henry's own foresight that had made this easy. In his early desire to keep his Cavendish identity secret, he asked the vicar to keep a separate register for the Bennet family, starting with his marriage to Fanny. The vicar had considered the eccentric old man harmless and the addition of colored glass to the chapel windows would be most welcome. Over the years, there were new altar clothes, new vestments, new servants and much wine and food. The vicar lost no sleep over keeping a separate register for Henry. The old man had not even noticed that it went missing shortly after Henry's funeral.

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As he spun Elizabeth around the crowded floor, Darcy could not resist rubbing his thumb across the silk at her waist. He breathed in deeply. It had been a long ten months and they had learned early on that they were not to be trusted.

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_**Clapham Common, June 29, 1812**_

_Elizabeth was at the desk in her small office. The house was quiet all around her. Only her own footmen stood guard, front and back of the house. Everyone else was off doing Lizzy's bidding. There was much to be accomplished and all of it to be done in short order. Clapham Common was to become the residence of three promising, but poor young scientists. Many purchases needed to be made to properly outfit the house. Appleby was on Bond Street. Elizabeth smiled when she remembered the glow that had come to the dear man's eyes. Valet to three young gentlemen! Henry had left behind some useful things, but three charges required three sets of everything. Lizzy could see Appleby, in her mind's eye, as he fussily made his choices at gentlemen's stores. Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, along with the other servants, were digging through Henry's belongings that were stored at Blenheim Street. More kitchen equipment, dishes, furniture and linens were needed. What they could not find in storage, they would have to purchase. _

_Elizabeth ran her hand over Humphrey Davy's letter. He, of all the men of the Royal Society, had truly taken up the charge for creating safe light for the miners. He already had ideas and was off in the north, seeing the situations firsthand. Lizzy had much hope that he would be successful. Now she turned her attention to the letters that were already coming in from hopeful young scientists. The lodgings and laboratories at Clapham Common were being much sought after. She once again smiled to herself. A meeting at the Crown and Anchor, to review the candidates of course, seemed a fine idea._

_Her eyes lifted from her letters when she heard her study door close and the lock click over._

_Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. It always did when she first caught sight of him._

_In moments, they were in each other's arms, staring into each other's eyes. Darcy lowered his face, closer and closer. Finally, his lips slowly drifted over hers. She gasped and he moaned as his tongue joined his lips in tasting her. His hands, his arms, his chest, his thighs all moved against her, caressing everything they could reach. The rest of the world fell away as his lips and tongue moved across her jaw to her ear. When his tongue entered her there, Elizabeth lost the ability to stand. Darcy swept her into his arms and carried her over to the small settee. His mouth never lost contact with her skin…. _

_When she finally regained her senses, her bodice had been pulled up and her dress lowered. She was being gently rocked in Darcy's strong arms as he cooed his love for her and begged her forgiveness for having gone so far._

"_We have to control this, my Lizzy. We must find a way."_

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_He had come to visit her the next morning at Devonshire House. Darcy was grateful that he was shown into a formal sitting room where both Mrs. Ramya and a footman were present. Darcy and Elizabeth went to sit in chairs that were separated by a small table and were within eyesight of all, but far enough removed that their conversation would not be overheard._

_Out of deepest respect for Henry Cavendish, they would not announce their engagement until a full year of mourning was past. They both knew this was a problem, a big problem. Neither knew how they would survive this period with Elizabeth's chastity intact. Worse, even after the announcement of the engagement, they would need to wait a full month, and preferably more, for the wedding to take place. Planning and resolve were in order._

_They promised each other that after waiting nearly a year to wed, they would give over the following year to nothing but each other. They would need to leave England to make this a reality. Wars or no wars, they would travel. Both had studied much of the ancients. They would go to Greece, Italy, and Egypt. They would follow their passions and their minds, accounting to no one but each other._

_If such a thing was to be possible for two such responsible people, it would require careful planning. Neither would leave behind suffering dependents. They would have their affairs in order and in capable hands when they departed._

_Darcy and Elizabeth also decided that they would spend as much time apart as they could bear. If they were not in the same city, they could not find themselves in yesterday's position or worse. They made a pact. There would be no more than six weeks that went by without a few moments alone, but those moments would hold no more than kisses. They would both guard Elizabeth's maidenhood._

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Now, they were so close to the end of their suffering. Elizabeth could feel the muscles of his shoulder, even through the layers of his clothing. Darcy could feel the softness of her skin through his hand at her waist.

"In another hour," he whispered, "the whole world will know that you are mine."

The deep rumble of his voice sent shivers down her spine.

"In five weeks, I am going to taste you, all of you, once little piece at a time."

She went weak in the knees. "Stop," she whispered, "before I faint."

Darcy's face broke into a wide, rakish smile. "Very well, but soon I will not have to stop."

She swatted his shoulder, but could not stop an answering smile.

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	22. Part 3, Ch 6 cont & Epilogue

**Author's notes:**

Viscount Andrew Blainsley is a character that appears today. He is completely fictional.

The research took until 1815, but Henry Cavendish's good friend Sir Humphry Davy did indeed develop a much safer lamp for miners. Some other scientists also created new lamps, but Davy's design was superior. He discovered that firedamp could not be ignited by a flame that was enclosed in a fine wire gauze. The lamp became known as the "Miner's Friend." Soon mines had new employees whose only job was to check the Davy lamps for cracks or corrosion before the miners went underground to work.

Henry Cavendish is still remembered as one of the greatest scientists who ever lived. He was always interested in science, not fame or glory. As a result, he published little of his work. After his death, members of the Royal Society read through Henry's journals, looking for new things to publish. However, Henry was ahead of his time on several fronts and many of his writings were not understood. Only years later, when some of Henry's scientific insights were rediscovered by new researchers, would the extent of Henry's genius truly be known.

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**Henry's Legacy**

**Part 3**

**Chapter 6**

**Continued**

**Devonshire House, April 24, 1813**

The Duke of Devonshire swept Princess Lieven around the crowed ballroom. Her dancing, like everything about her, was elegant and sensual.

They both enjoyed the little quivers and stirrings that accompanied their every interaction. It added tension and pleasure that would last for years to come. However, they both knew, without ever speaking of it, that they would never act on this physical attraction. Respect for Dorothea's husband forbid it. Besides, they were too closely tied and too needy of each other to risk the complications of an affair.

Both of their countries were still fighting France. Will and Dorothea, as friends and allies, were battling to expand the fragile alliance they had built. It would be nearly a year complete before Napoleon was finished.

At the same time, Russia was winning victory after victory in Persia and England strongly felt the threat to her imperial power. A new and deadly contest was beginning, a contest in which Will and Dorothea were already enemies.

Then, there was Elizabeth. Here there was no question of foe versus friend. In this, the Duke and the Princess would always act with one mind. Anyone wishing to harm their charge had best beware. Caroline Bingley had already discovered this, much to her despair and disgrace.

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_**Gracechurch Street, November 26, 1812**_

_Charles Bingley sat sipping a brandy. He was in a most elegant and comfortable chair that sat in a fashionable and spacious drawing room. He was more than pleased that he had found such a fine house within Caroline's now limited means._

_Caroline Bingley, however, was fit to be tied. The only reason that she was now silent was that she was too hoarse to speak, let alone scream. Screaming was clearly what she wished to do. She had done that, continuously, on the long journey from Scarborough. Finally her body had declared it could no longer take the abuse. Her raw and swollen throat insisted upon a rest._

_Fortunately, Charles had let most of her three day diatribe just flow past him. When he did respond, his voice was always calm and he repeated the same things to her, time and again._

"_I warned you. Any gossip about the Duke and Miss Elizabeth and you would find yourself on your own."_

"_It is only for the sake of Aunt Julia that your permanent residence will be in London and not Scarborough."_

"_You cannot afford a house in Mayfair."_

"_No, you may not live in my house."_

"_No, I will not outfit you for the season."_

"_This area of Gracechurch Street is perfectly respectable, elegant in fact."_

"_Yes, the Bennet's uncle does live nearby."_

"_You forget, Caroline. You are a tradesman's daughter."_

"_No, Caroline. The Hursts will not take you in. They have refused. They are not interested in the wrath of a Duke._

"_No, Louisa will not come and speak to you."_

"_Yes, I am sure she is increasing."_

"_No, she does not want her sister to help her through such a time."_

"_Yes, your whole fortune will be in your own hands."_

"_If you spend your funds in such a way, you will have no income and no dowry."_

"_No, I will not supplement your income. You will never get another halfpenny from me."_

"_Yes, once you are settled, you may do whatever you wish. But, you best be careful, your twenty thousand pounds is all you have. I wash my hands of you."_

_Charles smiled at his mute but furious sister. "One more thing, Caroline, do find a companion. It is unseemly for even a tradesman's daughter to live alone. Mrs. Jones has agreed to stay for only two months." He tipped his glass at his sister before draining the final liquid. "Good bye, sister." Then, he was gone._

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_For the first two weeks, Caroline sent message after message to her brother and her sister. She ordered each to come and get her. Neither replied. She would have gone herself, but she could not abide traveling in a hackney and she had no coach of her own. Besides, she could not risk being turned away from her own siblings' doors. What if someone she knew saw that happen? _

_She had to change tactics. She had only one man servant. If he was always out delivering messages and waiting for answers, he could do nothing else. With only a cook, a maid, her abigail and this one man servant, much was being left undone and Caroline's comfort was in peril. So, she reduced the number of messages to only two per day, one each for Charles and Louisa. _

_When Christmas came and went without a word from either, Caroline began to realize that she might truly be on her own._

_Well, she would show them! She was not about to reside on Gracechurch Street, nor to live without a carriage or proper servants. As to forgoing a new wardrobe for the coming season, that idea was absurd. Caroline was, after all, a wealthy woman. If she used some of her dowry, so what? Mr. Darcy was in no need of her dowry anyway._

_So, as distasteful as the idea was, Miss Bingley would conduct some business. She would acquire a proper house, a carriage and all else she needed. It was unfortunate that her inexperience left her vulnerable to abuse in these transactions. But, for Caroline's purse, her attitude of obvious disdain was her own worst enemy. The honorable tradesmen would normally have protected an innocent female in such a circumstance. In this case, to a man, they felt no guilt at all when they lined their own pockets._

_Thus, Caroline Bingley found a house to lease in Mayfair, at nearly double the going rate. So it went with nearly everything else: her carriage, the horses with bad teeth and greying coats covered in boot black, and the smiling man who called himself a business manager. Only in the acquisition of and wages for new servants did Caroline hold her own. She did, after all, know how to manage a house._

_Still, her new home was only partially ready. She would store most of owner's furnishing and replace them with ones that were more fitting to her own wealth and status. Caroline's new carriage had been delivered and now she would shop. She nodded in approval as her eyes took in the coach, the driver and her footmen. How well they were all matched! The colors would be the envy of the ton!_

_Several days later, Caroline sank into the soft carriage seat as she headed home. Today had been particularly gratifying. Her new, one of a kind china was superb._

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_Madeline Gardiner had pulled her husband into the back room as soon as she recognized the snobby creature who had entered their shop. Mrs. Gardiner would stay hidden. Miss Bingley had never laid eyes on Edward before, so he would deal with this woman who had so wounded dear Jane._

_The smell and arrogance of new money was all over this Caroline Bingley. Edward saw at once the chance for some small revenge, not to mention the opportunity to rid himself of this hideous china. He had left a setting of it in his showroom, certainly in the hopes of one day selling it, but more importantly as a reminder of his own folly._

_The woman who had made the special order bore some remarkable resemblances to Edward's sister Fanny. Both showed far too much cleavage and far too few genteel manners. However, he knew who her husband was. That man could afford this order many times over. What Edward had not known was that the husband had finally put a stop to the woman's frivolous spending. Gardiner had not asked for a deposit nor gotten a signed contract. He had no way to insist upon payment when the husband refused the final bill. For Edward's own fledgling reputation, he had to pay his artisans. Yes, that overly gilded and entirely tasteless setting had provided, for years, a visual reminder of how not to do business._

"_Ah, yes, Miss Bingley. I am not quite sure that I should let these go. They were made for foreign royalty, you know. With all the wars, they have been unable to return to England to claim them."_

_It had cost Caroline only twenty percent above his original price to get the foolish shopkeeper to give up the exquisite dinnerware, even after all of his moaning about disappointing royalty. Well, that was his problem not hers._

_Gardiner smiled as Miss Bingley's carriage pulled away._

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_Caroline was finally ready. The guest list for her first formal dinner in her new Mayfair home included only titled, first circle names, except for Mr. Darcy, of course. He did not yet have the title that she would secure for him. When a full complement of single line rejections came in, Caroline's tantrums cost her two of her maids._

_When she finally calmed down, she realized that all these friends must still be in the country. She should have paid calls first, to determine who was in town, before she sent out invitations. How silly of her!_

_So, her calls began. Undaunted by the numbers of people who 'were not at home,' Caroline persisted and did find herself admitted to several fashionable homes. Not one to waste any opportunity, her best gossip flowed freely._

_When the rumors made their way to the ears of Princess Lieven, she did indeed know how to act._

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_Less than a fortnight later, the Lieven's home was sparkling and the din of the heavy crowd nearly drowned out the small orchestra's music._

_Dorothea heard the beautiful, young Duke beside her release a heavy sigh. She followed his eyes and saw that Miss Bingley had just entered the room._

"_Such a sigh, Your Grace. Do not tell me that you are feeling pity for her?"_

_Will was thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose I do feel some pity. However, my sigh was for her brother. I did, I do value him." Several more moments passed in silence. Will had written to Charles, giving him one more chance to handle things on his own. Bingley's response had been two lines. "I have washed my hands of her. Do as you see fit."_

_What Will did not tell Princess Lieven was that part of his melancholy was due to having used knowledge inadvertently gained from the Old Duke's trunk._

_Dorothea patted Will's arm. "Just think of Elizabeth as this all unfolds."_

_Will gave a brief squeeze to the Princess' hand and nodded._

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_Viscount Andrew Blainsley had the reputation of a cold-hearted rake. He was a clever man and fed this reputation at every turn. Long ago he had secreted substantial funds outside England. His most private life was always a danger. If it was exposed, he was ever ready to quickly flee. Banishment abroad was preferable to a hangman's noose._

_The ton's most infamous rake had never, not once, bedded a woman. In his arrogance, he had been sure that only those of his own kind were aware of his true nature. A quiet game of chess with the Duke of Devonshire had put paid to that. Young William Cavendish knew of Blainsley's dalliances with men, in alarming detail._

_Yet, Blainsley had not headed for the nearest port. Somehow he actually trusted this Duke._

"_I ask this not as blackmail, but as a favor. If you grant it, I will be forever in your debt."_

"_And if I refuse?"_

"_Then you shall have no reason to fear me. I will not expose you. Not ever."_

_Blainsley had agreed. He truly believed that Devonshire had approached him looking for someone safe of whom to ask this favor. The deed would be done and each man knew he now had an ally in the other._

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_The Viscount waited until just the right moment. Two of the ton's most prolific gossips were positioned near Miss Bingley. Blainsley went over and took Caroline by the arms, leaned in close to her ear, and growled a little too loudly. "Stop following me around you little whore! And stop begging! I will never grace your bed again. Find someone new to scratch your notch!"_

_Blainsley immediately left the ball. It took mere minutes for the scandalous news to travel through the entire room. Caroline Bingley was cut by each and every person to whom she tried to issue her denials. Her carriage took her home from her last ever London ball._

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_The Duke and the Princess had each done their parts. Will had rid the ton of Caroline and Dorothea had made sure the slander about Elizabeth was nowhere believed. _

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**Devonshire House, April 24, 1812  
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Countess Fitzwilliam moved over to her youngest son. His manner all evening had been easy and jovial. His mother, however, saw that sadness never left his eyes. Should she need any more proof of his low spirits, Richard was not waltzing spoke for itself. She knew the cause of his despair. They had already discussed the hopeless situation. All the Countess could do for now was to offer him the comfort of her arm.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam did not remain in the military out of necessity. It was true that he was a second son, but his family was enormously wealthy. His parents had seen to his comfort and security, now and in the future.

No, Richard was very much his father's son. Duty was everything. Military intelligence was where he could best serve. It was perfect for his particular skills and now the Crown had called on him for further sacrifice. He could not say no.

His eyes roamed over to Devonshire waltzing with the Russian princess. _What a fitting scene! Britain and Russia twirling elegantly through the world, all the while each seeking advantage, a sign of weakness, a way to take control. _Richard Fitzwilliam had been pulled into the latest version of this deadly dance. It was the fight over power in central Asia and would come to be known as The Great Game.

His eyes continued on and he found Darcy and Elizabeth. He could almost feel the heat of their connection from where he stood. Jealousy and despair flowed through him. The desire of Richard's heart was far in the north. Duty held him to London and would soon take him to foreign shores. Jane's year of mourning might be over, but that did Richard no good. He could not go to see her. Propriety forbid him from even writing to her. If the fates were particularly perverse, it may even be years before he was able to set eyes on her again.

Richard did not know that he had let out another sigh until he felt his mother gently squeeze his arm.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Will was particularly proud of the happy face he had shown as he announced the betrothal during supper. The reaction of his guests was everything he expected, an entertaining combination of thrills and disappointments. He had particularly enjoyed the moment when a mass of Royal Society men had descended on Darcy to offer 'congratulations.' Warnings was a more appropriate term. If Darcy made Elizabeth unhappy, it was not one irate father that he would have to deal with, it was many.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As the evening drew to a close, Darcy went outside to personally thank and send home the special guards he had put in place for the night. These men had one duty only, to keep any de Bourgh from the premises. Thankfully, Darcy's worries about his relatives making a scene were unfounded. Lady Catherine and Anne de Bourgh had not appeared this night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After he had let the final guests out, Norris locked the great front doors. It was a night for sighing, but the one from Norris was not due to sadness, it was due to relief. The evening had come and gone without any hitches. More importantly, near a full year had passed without scandal. Conviction had settled over him as the evening had perfectly progressed. Gardiner was safe. Norris would not have to deliver the Old Duke's orders to Blevins. Miss Elizabeth's kindly uncle would be allowed to keep his business and proceed with a life of his own making.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Will ordered a great fire to be built in his study before he sent most everyone to bed. A few guards remained on duty, including one outside the study's doors.

The Sixth Duke of Devonshire stared at the wall of books, beyond which lay the safe. His father's words swam through his head. _"One day. One day William, you will realize that you are, all you are, is the Duke of Devonshire. When that day comes, open this safe."_

_No Father._ Will remembered how he had answered the man at that time. _I will not only be the Duke of Devonshire. I am a man. I am a part of humanity. If being nothing but Devonshire is what is required, I will never open this safe. I will not become you._

_Will finished his brandy, removed his coat and cravat, and then opened the safe and placed his father's trunk over near the fire._

He opened the lid and stared at the letter. _Well, Father, you would be proud. I am indeed become the Duke of Devonshire. I have the blood of two men on my hands. I have used some of your knowledge to gain an evil favor from an otherwise harmless man. But now your game is over. As a matter of fact, the whole set of games of all this line of Devonshires will end here with me. Tonight I gave away the only woman I will ever love. I can safely say that your direct line is about to die, dearest Father. _

Will poured himself another brandy. As he sipped the fiery liquid, he slowly burned everything in the trunk, starting with the unopened letter from his father.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Epilogue**

The former Mrs. Lydia Wickham lived a remarkably happy life. She had not been two months at her new estate when she was caught in a most compromising situation with a local second son. His parents were very pleased. Their holdings were small and if not for this marriage, he would have left home to find his own way in the world. They were happy to see him settled on this nearby estate even if his new wife was a little lacking in manners. For the couple themselves, he was delighted to find his randy widow still a virgin and she was an eager participant in the newfound joys of the marriage bed. George Wickham may have been handsome, but he had never inspired the fluttering that her new husband did.

The new couple never left Ireland. Funds were always short. However, the steward that Darcy had left in place made sure that they never exceeded their income. In time, Lydia's new husband even learned to care for and improve the estate.

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Catherine Hervey did not enjoy the same kind of felicity in her eventual matrimonial bed. However, she made a very acceptable society match during her first season. Her husband's estate was in Scotland and Kitty's new Town bronze made her a shining leader in the small community. Her husband was pleased with her and she with him. Kitty did not miss the physical pleasures that she did not know existed.

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To the surprise of everyone except Mary, Jane and Houghton, it was Mary who married the good vicar.

Jane continued in her good works at Darlington. Who knows if, in the fullness of time, the excellent Colonel Fitzwilliam might make his way back there?

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Mrs. Philips held her sister's hand as Mrs. Bennet's life force slowly drained away. The mulatto daughter survived and Jane Philips sent her to be raised among the household slaves. After all, it would not do for some of her own blood to be laboring in the fields.

The widow Philips somehow escaped the perils that claimed the lives of twenty percent of the white islanders every year. She lived to a ripe old age. As one of few British 'ladies' on the island, she happily took on the role of sought-after-hostess to all the soldiers and gentry who came and went.

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No one ever discovered, nor even remembered to investigate, the reason for Longbourn being given to such a bumbling, distant relation as Mr. Collins.

_**Chatsworth, October 14, 1785**_

_Henry had enough of being so close to people. He always came to every Cavendish and Grey christening, every one. That did not make it any easier to be around all these people. His breathing and heart rate were just returning to normal as he approached the small, hidden pond. He would be safe here._

_Suddenly, he became aware of crying nearby. It was a round little boy, surely no older than four or five. Henry approached the lad slowly and sat down. Finally the boy stopped crying and Henry spoke gently. "I, too, am sad. What is it that has you upset young man?"_

_The boy looked at Henry warily at first and then seemed to decide that he could trust this odd, old man. "My mommie always comes with me when we go to church to see the new babies."_

"_Your mommie is not here today?"_

"_She is dead." The boy's voice was flat._

_Henry's heart ached, both for the boy and for Henry's own missing mother._

"_What is your name, son?"_

"_William, sir."_

"_Are you a Cavendish?"_

_Little William nodded. "My mommie says I am. Her mommie was a Cavendish. She says that makes me one too. But my name is Collins. William Collins."_

_Henry Cavendish never forgot this little boy. When he finally decided to deny Fanny Longbourn, this boy's tear-filled face was the first thing that came to mind._

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Mr. Collins and Charlotte brought only one child into the world, a daughter. Although their daughter was a little worse than 'so very plain,' she did have one large advantage. Miss Collins was heiress to Longbourn, an unentailed estate.

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Charles Bingley married a beautiful daughter of a prominent Scarborough tradesman. They purchased a handsome nearby estate and Charles learned to be a responsible landowner. True to the wishes of both grandfathers, the children of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were born gentry.

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Caroline took her much reduced fortune and her battered reputation back to Scarborough. She was allowed to move into the old family home after Aunt Julia went to live with Charles and his wife on their new estate. Caroline lived her life out in a very confined society and never married.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thankfully, Anne de Bourgh's behavior toward Darcy had not been borne of mental illness. It was instead the result of that special kind of frustration known only to the completely spoiled on the occasion of first being denied something.

Lady Catherine finally convinced her daughter that Darcy was forever lost. A pale, sickly Rosings' heiress could not compete with the Cavendish status and fortune. Anne, however, was not to be denied a husband and eventually purchased one by signing over Rosings to a nearly bankrupt, elderly Earl. Much to Anne's chagrin, he insisted on consummating the marriage. The Earl may have been a spend-thrift, but in other ways he was no fool. The possibility of an annulment would not threaten his newly acquired wealth. The timing of the wedding night proved fatal for Anne. She did not survive the pregnancy.

Poor Lady Catherine found herself banished to the dower house. From there, she watched in horror as the Earl stripped Rosings of most of its value. Her own personal fortune dwindled apace as she tried to alleviate some of the sufferings of tenants and servants. She would never have previously believed it to be possible, but she blessed the day when the de Bourgh estate was sold. It was purchased by a handsome and kind couple who worked to restore it to its former glory. Lady Catherine lived many more years, watching her beloved estate once again become prosperous.

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Prince and Princess Lieven were finally called back to Russia in 1834. She was most unhappy to leave London. Her unhappiness turned to devastation when her two youngest sons died suddenly. The Princess removed from service to the Tsar and fled to Paris. There she lived out her life, consoling herself with intellectual pursuits. She and Elizabeth never lost their friendship.

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Lady Amabel Hume-Campbell received a Grey family title in her own right when she was created 1st Countess de Grey of Wrest in 1816. She doted on her Darcy 'grandchildren' at every possible opportunity.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The beautiful William Cavendish never married and became known as the Bachelor Duke. He spent his life in service to the Crown. After a year of mourning the loss of Elizabeth, he tired of being alone. His mistresses were many and legendary. The Victorian Cavendish heirs worked hard to burn all the letters that revealed Will's private life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was nearly two years before Mr. and Mrs. Darcy again set foot on England's shores. When they arrived, it was with a dark-haired, bright-eyed heir whose mother was again heavy with child. In all, Elizabeth would bear Darcy five sons and one much cherished daughter.

Elizabeth finally laid eyes on Pemberley some three months after the birth of her second son. From the moment that she first saw it, she knew she was home. It was the first real home that Elizabeth had ever known.

The wanderlust created by their two years abroad never left them. Over the years there were many times that an entire army of footmen, maids, guards, nurses, governesses and tutors would accompany the Darcy family to far-flung destinations.

Nonetheless, true to their natures, all this travel never interfered with the Darcys' duties to their estates and dependents nor with Elizabeth's honoring the scientific part of Henry's legacy.

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**The End.**


End file.
